State of Grace
by Brandi Golightly
Summary: When Clint and Natasha are assigned a mission that sends them back to Budapest, they find themselves facing their past. As they struggle to survive and conquer, they find not only their relationship, but their partnership being tested. Sequel to Off To The Races.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm baaaaaaaaack! Here's the sequel to _Off To The Races. _If you're new to this universe, I suggest you go back and read _To Rome With Love_ and _Off To The Races_. It's not completely vital but you may be lost if I refer to something from one of those other stories. Alright, so without further ado, here we go as we embark on another mission with Clint and Natasha. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Clint and Natasha (sadly). They belong to Marvel. I also don't own the song lyrics below. They belong to Taylor Swift.**

* * *

_So you were never a saint,_

_And I loved in shades of wrong._

_We learned to live with the pain,_

_Mosaics broken hearts._

_But this love is brave and wild._

* * *

The curtains were drawn in the master bedroom on floor 12 of Avengers Tower. The room was pitch black but on the other side of the curtains, the sun was just making its way over the horizon. Tangled among the dark sheets were two of SHIELD's finest assassins, fast asleep. The archer's arms were wrapped around the red head's small frame while their legs were woven between one another.

With a faint sigh, the red head squirmed in the archer's grasp before resting her head on her pillow for a more comfortable position. Seconds later, the archer grunted in his sleep as he relinquished his grip on the red head and rolled onto his back. The two assassins stayed like that for several minutes until an obnoxious beeping noise came from the bedside table.

With a groan, Natasha swung her arm and slapped the alarm clock to stop the beeping. She let her arm dangle over the side of the bed as she felt herself slowly drifting back to sleep. But the archer lying behind her had other plans. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around her thin frame once again and then kissed her bare shoulder. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in her scent.

"Do we really have to get up right now?" Clint whined.

"_You_ have to get up. _I_ am going to stay in bed and sleep until noon," the red headed assassin shot back as she buried her face in her pillow.

"Sleep 'til noon? That's so unlike you, Romanoff," Clint said as he nuzzled her neck.

"Hey, I don't have anywhere to be, unlike _you_."

Clint groaned as he released his grip on Natasha and rolled onto his back. A month had passed since the mission in Monaco and Fury had granted Strike Team Delta a month's worth of vacation. Since Clint had twisted his knee and Natasha had gotten a concussion from the head wound around her temple, their month of vacation seemed more like a month of medical leave. Natasha had been ordered to take it easy and keep away from the gym while Clint had been ordered to be on the SHIELD base at least three times a week for therapy on his knee. Their vacation was hardly a vacation.

Suddenly, Natasha sat upright and whipped the covers off of her naked body. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and then padded across the room. She yanked open the top drawer of the black dresser and rooted around it before pulling out a sports bra, a pair of underwear, and a pair of shorts.

Curious, Clint rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his arm as he watched his red-headed partner search for a pair of socks. Even though it was practically pitch black in the room due to the dark curtains, he could still make out the silhouette of his partner. He could see her curves and her toned legs against the backdrop of the wall and the dresser.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting ready. I'm going to go to the gym," Natasha said as she pulled a pair of socks from the drawer. She set her clothing on top of the dresser and slammed the top drawer shut. Snatching her clothing off of the dresser, she padded across the room towards the bathroom to get ready for her trek to the gym.

"Wait, you're supposed to be taking easy, Nat," Clint said.

Even in the darkness of the room, he could tell Natasha was rolling her eyes at him. "I'm fine," she shot back. "It's been a month. I think I can return to my daily routine."

Clint scoffed before rolling onto his back again and draping his arm over his face. "Fine, but don't strain yourself."

He felt the bed dip on his right side and then a soft hand caressed his chest. He peeked out from underneath his arm to see Natasha running her hand up his chest; the feeling sent shivers down his spine.

"Don't worry about me, bird brain," Natasha purred. "Just get your knee checked out and come meet me at the gym when you're done."

Clint nodded as he swallowed nervously. His damn partner knew how to turn him on with the slightest touch and the only thing he knew how to do was have sex with her. Sometimes he wondered how he ended up with her as both his work partner _and_ girlfriend.

Suddenly, Clint got an idea. Just as Natasha was about to rise from the edge of the bed, he reached out and grabbed her wrist to pull her against his chest. A small gasp escaped Natasha's lips as Clint pulled her close.

"Clint, what are you doing?" she asked as she shoved him in the chest but to no avail. His grip was tight around her and he had her hugged extremely close to him. Natasha could see even in the dark room that he had one of his signature sly grins spread across his face and that's how Natasha knew he had an idea.

"You know, if you need a good workout, you don't necessarily need to go to the gym," he said slyly.

Natasha couldn't help but feel a smile spread across her face. "Oh really?" she asked, playing along. "What can I do instead?"

"Well, I've heard sex is pretty good at burning calories," he suggested, the mischievous grin still plastered on his face.

"Oh really?" she purred as she brushed a finger down his chest towards his groin.

"Mhmmm," he hummed.

Natasha smirked. "Well, I guess it's a good thing we got our workout last night."

Natasha saw Clint's face fall and his defenses went slack. She was able to push away from Clint's grip and bounce off of the bed to walk towards the bathroom.

"That's not fair," Clint whined.

"You do realize you've used that on me before, right?" she tossed over her shoulder. She glanced back at him with a smirk on her face. She flipped on the light in the bathroom before turning back around at Clint. "But if you're a good boy at the doctor's and you pass your medical exam, I think I can make it an exception for later tonight."

With that, Natasha slowly closed the door to the bathroom so she could get ready for her trip. As she turned around to retrieve her clothes from the floor, she could hear Clint groan from the other side of the door and Natasha couldn't help but smile to herself. The things she did to that man were 5% for pleasure and 95% just to watch him squirm for her own personal enjoyment.

* * *

_Thwump! Thwump! Thwump!_

Natasha attacked the punching bag hanging in the middle of the gym at Avengers Tower as sweat poured down her body. She'd been at the gym for almost two hours and she hardly felt rejuvenated. After being out of the game for a month, she felt like she had to make up for lost time. Her muscles were barely quivering and her head wasn't even pounding from the blood rushing to her head. It wasn't a good workout unless she felt like she was nearly going to pass out.

_Thwump! Thwump! Thwump!_

She punched the heavy bag three more times before raising her right leg to kick it. The bag went swinging backwards and Natasha spun around and raised her other leg to kick it as it swung forward again. The bag swung forward again and Natasha stopped it with her body to steady it. She wiped her brow with her forearm and shook the sweat from her skin.

With one last glance at the punching bag, she turned on her heel and headed towards the wall where the jump ropes hung. She pulled one of them from their hook and moved to the center of the gym. She took one handle in each hand and started to swing the rope over her head. Faster and faster she swung it until she'd set a normal pace for herself.

She was about ten minutes into her jump rope routine when Clint strolled into the gym. She flashed a hint of a smile at him, but other than that, she didn't break her focus. Without saying a word to Natasha, he strolled over to one of the benches on the outskirts of the gym and waited for her to finish her workout. There was no need to interrupt her while she was concentrating.

After about ten more minutes of a steady jump rope workout, Natasha stopped and hung the rope back on its respective hook before making her way across the gym to her partner. As she sat down on the bench, she snatched her bag from underneath and fetched her bottle of water. She took a long swig from the bottle before leaning back against the wall to relax.

"So, how was your exam?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of hydration. She unscrewed the cap to her water bottle and took another swig of the chill liquid.

"I passed with flying colors," he said with a grin.

"You're not just saying that so we can screw around tonight, are you?" Natasha asked as she cocked an eyebrow at Clint.

"Nope, clean bill of health," Clint said with a smug smirk. "We can fool around all we want."

Natasha rolled her eyes at the archer before taking another swig of water and shoving it back in her back. She fished a clean towel out of her bag and wiped the sweat off of her body before chucking the dirty towel back into her bag.

"How long do you suppose it'll take Fury to put us on a mission?" Clint asked curiously.

"I give him six hours," Natasha said, which earned a chuckle from Clint. "I'm dead serious."

Clint chuckled again. "True. You were barely cleared by medical before we got assigned the Monaco mission."

"Like I said, I give him six hours," Natasha deadpanned.

Clint nodded as he leaned back and rested his head against the wall. He sucked in a deep breath before closing his eyes. As bored as he was, he wasn't quite ready to go back into the field. His "vacation" with Natasha hardly constituted as a vacation. He had been in and out of medical for check-ups and physical therapy and he could tell Natasha was getting bored. However, if they didn't get assigned a mission soon, he wouldn't be surprised if Natasha started doing something "normal," like go shopping.

"Ready to go?"

Clint's eyes snapped open to see Natasha standing above him with her duffle bag slung across her chest and her bright green eyes staring back at him.

"Yeah, sorry," he said apologetically as he jumped up from the bench. "Must've dozed off for a couple seconds."

"Wouldn't surprise me," she said with a shrug. She turned on her heel and headed towards the gym door. Clint followed in her footsteps but he had other plans in mind. As she reached out and slightly opened the door, Clint reached out and pushed the door shut. Natasha spun around with a scowl on her face but Clint just followed through with his plan and braced his arms on the door, trapping Natasha between them.

"Something you need, Hawk?" she purred. Of course she would play along. She got her workout. She had nothing else planned for the rest of the day. Clint had been cleared by medical and he'd been a very patient and good boy. He deserved for her to play along.

"Yeah, a certain red head that I just so happen to have a thing for," he drawled.

"I'm jealous," she purred as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. She saw him smirk, but only slightly. Just small enough for her to detect it.

"No need," he said. "I'm looking right at her."

"Oh," she said. "Well, by all means…" She trailed off, allowing Clint to fill in the blanks. With a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he leaned in and captured her mouth with his.

* * *

Clint wasn't quite sure how they ended up in his bedroom on the 12th floor of Avengers Tower, but that was the least of his concerns when he'd awoken in a puddle of his own sweat. The sheets were soaked and he could feel that his hair was damp. He could even feel that his muscles were sore as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

To his right Natasha lied, curled up and tangled in the bed sheets. Her back was facing him and he could see the expansion of her ribs with every breath she took. The last thing Clint wanted to do was wake her so he stealthily climbed out of bed and pulled on his boxers that lied on the floor. He tiptoed across the room and slipped out into the hall, quietly closing the door behind him.

He wandered his floor in the early morning darkness until he found himself in the kitchen. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing here but he started rummaging through the cabinets, trying to find something to calm his nerves. As per usual, there was absolutely nothing in the pantry so he settled for the last bit of orange juice he had in the fridge. He poured the orange liquid into a blue glass and absentmindedly sipped it as he stared off into the nothingness.

"Another nightmare?"

Clint turned his head to the kitchen entrance to find Natasha leaning against the doorway in one of his rumpled button-down shirts. Her eyes were weighed down with sleep but that didn't stop her from crossing the room to hoist herself up onto the counter across from Clint to stare him down.

"Can't get away with anything around you," he grumbled as he stared into his almost empty glass of orange juice.

"You should know better by now," she said as she tried to stifle a yawn.

"Let's go back to bed," he suggested.

"No," she said sternly. "You can't back out of this."

With a sigh, Clint set his glass down on the counter behind him and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Was it your brother again?" Natasha asked softly.

"No," he groaned. "No, it wasn't. Actually, it was Trick Shot, my mentor."

Natasha tilted her head to the side as she stared down Clint. She knew he felt guilty about his past and he had so much red in his ledger just like she did. As to why he was all of a sudden having these nightmares, she wasn't sure.

"Clint, have these been happening often?" she asked.

Wearily, he shook his head. "This is only the second one. That's including the one I had on the flight back from Paris."

Natasha nodded in understanding. She knew everything about his past and he knew everything about hers. But when it came to the nightmares that plagued both of them at night, neither one of them knew how to address it. The best they could do was to comfort the other and hope that the nightmares didn't come back when they drifted back to sleep.

"I've had nightmares before," Clint said, breaking the silence. "They've terrorized me for years, but none of them have been as terrifying as these last two. I have no idea where my brother is and Trick Shot's been dead for years. And yet, they still haunt the hell out of me."

"Hey," Natasha said softly as she slid off the countertop and closed the small amount of space between them. She gently cupped his face with both of her hands and forced Clint to look into her green eyes. "They can't come after you. Like you said, Trick Shot's dead and for all you know, your brother could be too.

"I know. It sucks," she continued. "You wake up drenched in sweat and your heart pounding against your rib cage, and when you finally calm yourself down, you can't fall back asleep because you're too afraid the nightmares will come back. But you don't have to worry about that because you have me."

"I know that," he shot back with a groan.

"Just trust me," she whispered. "Come back to bed."

Clint knew that, deep down, he was afraid to go back to sleep. He didn't want to see his brother in his dreams again because he felt like that was the one place that he was helpless. Running away wouldn't help. Firing his bow wouldn't help. Even throwing a punch wouldn't help. In his dreams was where he was the most vulnerable.

But Clint had an infinite amount of trust in Natasha. She knew where he was coming from and he'd helped her through more than enough nightmares too. So as he stared back into those beautiful green eyes, he hesitantly nodded his head and allowed the one person in this entire world that mattered to lead him back to the bedroom and help him fall back asleep.

* * *

**Oh boy, here we go! Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think! If you review, I may just update tomorrow as an Easter present. By the way, Happy Easter if you celebrate it! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! I have the next chapter here for you. It's the big reveal. Even though we know where Clint and Natasha are headed, they don't so they're going to find out in this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was only a couple hours later – once Natasha finally got Clint to fall back asleep – when their phones rang from their respective bedside tables. At first, the assassins weren't stirred from their slumber but they woke up – slowly and sluggishly – to answer their phones. Natasha pried herself from Clint's grip and rolled away from him as she swiped her phone off of the bedside table. She squinted at the screen to read the caller ID. The screen flashed the New York SHIELD base's number and she groaned internally.

"What'd I tell you?" Clint groaned as he rolled onto his back, causing the bed to shake. "Bets it's a mission?"

"Twenty bucks," Natasha mumbled with a smirk on her face. She slid her finger across the screen and pressed the phone against her ear as she fell back against the pillows. "Romanoff," she answered.

"Agent Romanoff," Agent Maria Hill said from the other end. "We need you on the base in an hour. There will be a car for you at Avengers Tower in 45 minutes. Relay the message to Agent Barton since – by the look on Fury's face – he didn't answer his phone."

"I'll let him know," Natasha said and then disconnected the call.

"Mission?" Clint asked as he slid down the headboard and snuggled back into bed.

"Didn't say," Natasha said as she whipped the covers off of her body. "But there will be a car here to take us to base in 45 minutes so get your ass out of bed

"Oh come on, Nat," Clint whined, muffled from his face being pressed into the pillows.

"Up, Bird Boy!" she ordered. "And get your ass in the shower. You smell like sweat and shame."

"Alright fine," the archer whined as he sluggishly pulled himself out of bed. He padded across the room to the attached bathroom and shut himself into the tiny room. At first, he moved around the bathroom slowly, grabbing a fresh towel and washcloth from the basket by the tub before turning on the shower head. He tested the water out before stepping in and letting the warm water loosen his muscles and wake him up.

He stood in the shower for several minutes before he actually started to wash himself. He knew that if he didn't do something productive soon, Natasha would storm into the bathroom and hold him down while she scrubbed him. And no, he knew it wouldn't be kinky.

He quickly scrubbed his body before rinsing off and turning off the water. He stepped out of the tub and onto the bath mat to dry off. When he was finished, he tied the towel around his waist and quickly stepped up to the sink to brush his teeth.

Just as he was about to squirt some toothpaste onto his toothbrush, Natasha barged into the room and lightly shoved him out of the way to grab something from underneath the sink.

"You could've knocked," he mumbled with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Shut up Barton," Natasha said as she retrieved a bottle of lotion and then sat down on the edge of the tub to slather some of the floral smelling lotion onto her hands.

The two assassins finished up in the bathroom in silence. When Clint was finished, he exited the room to quickly pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. By the time he was dressed, Natasha had reentered the bedroom with her red curls pulled up into a chignon and her face showing a hint of makeup.

"Ready?" he asked as he slipped on a pair of sneakers and stood up from the edge of the bed.

With a simple nod, Natasha reached for her jacket hanging off of the hook on the back of the door and then headed out into the hallway. Clint did the same and followed Natasha out into the hallway. Together, they waited for the elevator and then rode it down to the lobby to head to the SHIELD base.

* * *

Even though both Clint and Natasha had been on the SHIELD base since they'd been debriefed on the Monaco mission, the place felt like an alien planet to them. When they climbed out of the car, they received some strange looks from SHIELD employees. With a scowl, Natasha sent them running in the opposite direction as they cut through the base and headed to Fury's office.

The hallway that was home to Fury's office was eerily silent. Clint and Natasha wondered if the director was even on base. But they stood outside the door to his office for a couple seconds before Clint rapped his knuckles on the door three times.

From the other side of the door, they heard Fury's deep voice invite them in and Clint stepped forward to open the door. With an eerie creak, the door swung open to reveal Fury's office. The one-eyed director was seated behind his desk, hunched over a pile of papers and folders. There was very little light in the room, casting a ghostly ambience among the SHIELD employees.

"Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, have a seat," the director said as he lifted his head and gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.

The two SHIELD agents stepped forward and fell into the seats in front of Fury's desk. They sat in silence and watched with trepidation as Fury gathered all the papers on his desk and shoved them into folders. He straightened out his pile before glancing at each folder's tab.

"Agent Barton," Fury said as he handed Clint one of the folders. "Agent Romanoff." Clint and Natasha took their respective folders as flipped them open to see the breakdown of their next mission. "Your next mission," Fury stated bluntly as he rose from his chair. He clasped his hands behind his back as he started to pace around the room. "I know you've just been cleared by medical, Barton, but this takes precedence."

"You didn't seem to care when I was cleared by medical before sending me to Monaco," Natasha grumbled as she flipped through the folder.

"Easy, Agent Romanoff," Fury said. "I only did that because I figured you'd been punished enough and you must've been going stir crazy."

Natasha had to admit Fury was right. She had been going absolutely bonkers without a mission. She had been glad that Fury sent her on the mission in Monaco, but it was clearly a mistake.

"Anyways," Fury continued. "András Varga, an infamous drug dealer in Europe, has made it onto SHIELD's radar for embezzling money from corporate business owners throughout Europe."

"Okay," Clint said as he lifted a page to stare at the one behind it. "Why is this SHIELD's problem?"

"Two agents from the SHIELD base in London were assigned to this mission," Fury said as he paced around the room. His hands were still clasped behind his back and he was gazing anywhere but at his two agents. "They were asked to go undercover in one of the businesses Varga had been embezzling money from. The mission was a failure and Varga ended up getting away with five million."

"From which company?" Natasha asked, raising her head from the folder.

"Not from a company," Fury said as he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Clint and Natasha. "From SHIELD."

Both Clint and Natasha felt their jaws drop. Whoever this guy was, he was good. And whoever the SHIELD agents were that let him do this, they were idiots. It was clearly their fault that Varga got away with the money. But how, Clint and Natasha could tell that Fury wasn't quite sure.

"And we don't know how," Natasha said.

"Not a clue," Fury said as he shook his head. "The SHIELD agents that were assigned to the mission have been suspended indefinitely from the field until they are properly interrogated. It's quite possible they let something slip."

"But you're not letting this go," Clint stated.

"Of course not, Agent Barton," Fury said as he clasped his hands behind his back again and strode towards the archer. "Not only are we not going to let Varga get away with _our_ money, but we're not going to let him get away with other corporate businesses' money."

"And what about the drug business?" Natasha chimed in. "Shouldn't we stop him?"

"One step at a time, Agent Romanoff," Fury said. "Varga is most likely using the embezzled money to fund his drug business. We've got to stop him from embezzling money and then we'll take down his drug business."

Natasha nodded and then turned her attention back to the folder in her lap. She'd managed to skim and scan the folder's files while Fury had been talking but not once did she notice the mission's destination. She'd noticed many different locations that noted where Varga had been when he'd embezzled money, but not once did she notice the destination for the mission.

Maybe it was undecided at the moment. Varga had embezzled money from several different places across Europe so Natasha figured they'd most likely get sent to wherever Varga popped up next. Maybe they just had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. But she couldn't make these assumptions. She had to ask.

"Director, is there a destination for this mission?" Natasha asked. "I don't see one in these files."

With a sigh, Fury walked back to his desk and fell into his chair. He clasped his hands together and rested his arms on top of his desk. Even though the man only had one eye, his gaze was still intense. But there was still softness in there. It almost seemed like he felt…guilty.

"I trust you two," the director said. "You've been through a lot. New York wasn't easy on either of you and Romanoff going rogue in Rome didn't make things easier. Missions from your past haven't made this easy either. But I trust that you guys can do this despite your past."

"What are you saying?" Clint asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion.

With another sigh, Fury hung his head. His shoulders were hunched over and he looked genuinely sorry for whatever he was about to say. He lifted his head and stared intensely at the two agents in front of him. With one last sympathetic look, he took a deep breath and said, "Budapest. You're going back to Budapest."

Natasha heard a loud ringing in her ears and Clint felt his heart skip a beat. Both of them felt like they were suddenly welded to their seats and it was quite possible that their blood had turned to ice. Neither one of them could move. They were paralyzed with fear. There was no way this was happening. They couldn't be heading back to Budapest. Not after what happened the last time…

Suddenly, Natasha saw Clint rise from his chair out of the corner of her eye. She looked over at him to see him standing in front of Fury's desk. His hands were clenched into fists and his eyes were filled with rage. If Clint didn't know better, Natasha figured he would have punched Fury right then and there. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Natasha to deal with the tragic news that they would heading back to the one place they both feared the most.

* * *

**Angst! Drama! Oh my! Hope you guys liked it. Things are just getting started! Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! I was literally like two sentences away from finishing this last night (or I guess early this morning) when I figured I should go to bed because I had to be up earlier than usual. Damn registration for fall classes at 7:00 a.m. -_-. But I finished it so here is the next chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

Once Natasha composed herself, she, too, stormed out of the room without so much as another word to Fury. As immature as it sounded, he promised years ago that they'd never have to go back to Budapest. He would always make sure that another SHIELD agent or team could go before he sent them there. But of course, it takes only one team to fuck things up for Clint and Natasha so clearly they had to go back no matter what.

When she was far enough away from Fury's office, she stopped in the middle of the hallway to think where she wanted to go next. Just like Clint, she was running away from her past, but this time, they were both running away from the same thing.

_Wait_, she thought to herself. _Clint. Where's Clint?_

Suddenly, guilt washed over her. She felt horrible for not immediately following him out the door once Fury had announced where they were headed. Instead, Natasha had stayed glued to her chair for almost exactly seven minutes after Clint left. Normally, Natasha would've followed him right out the door to comfort him, but she'd been dealing with her own demons. She just hoped he didn't take it personally.

Natasha pondered over where Clint could possibly be, but she knew it was ridiculous to wonder. There was only one place he could be. Natasha turned on her heel and headed back down the hall. It was the only place they both went to think when they needed to.

Keeping a steady pace, Natasha turned a corner and found herself outside the training room. She peered into the room to find it surprisingly empty, though it possibly had to do with Clint. Natasha had no doubts that Clint possibly kicked out all of the SHIELD agents so he could brood in peace.

With hesitation, she pushed open the door and slipped into the vast room. She slowly let the door click shut behind her before she peered up into the rafters to search for Clint. Of course she was right. She found him hiding in the shadows of the rafters with his arms wrapped around the railing. Even though he was shrouded in darkness, she could see that his chin was resting on his arms and he had a scowl plastered on his face.

Without a word, she crossed the vast gym and started to climb up the ladder to the rafters. She carefully stepped up each peg until she reached the landing. With a grunt, she hoisted herself onto the landing and rolled to her feet. Quietly, she walked across the landing until she reached Clint. She plopped down next to him and wrapped her arms around the railing as well.

She didn't quite know what to say to him, mostly because she didn't quite know what to say to herself. Both she and Clint had a rough time the last time they were in Budapest and it had psychologically, emotionally, and physically scarred them. Even though that had been years ago, they were still recovering from it. Now that they were being sent back, they weren't quite sure they were ready.

"We're really being sent back, aren't we?" he mumbled, his chin still resting on top of his arms.

"I think so," Natasha choked out.

They sat in the rafters in silence for several more minutes. In that amount of time, no one had managed to come into the room, which led Natasha to believe that Clint forced the agents to relay the message to everyone on the base. After a while, the silence had become unbearable for Natasha. She wanted to say something but she just didn't know what.

"Clint, we have to do it," Natasha finally said. "Fury wouldn't send us there unless he absolutely needed us to go."

"I think he's full of bullshit," Clint growled.

"Yeah, probably," Natasha half-heartedly agreed with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Like, come on, Nat!" Clint exclaimed, raising his head and turning to look at the red-head. "How does he even expect us to get past security at the airport? We caused enough chaos the last time. New identities won't be enough."

"Clint, I know. _I know_," she hissed as she reached out and cradled his face in her hands. "But Fury's got to have a plan and I don't think he'd let something happen to us again."

Clint jerked his head out of her grasp and Natasha had to admit she was a little hurt. She watched as he set his chin back on top of his arms and let out a breath. "I can't go back there," he muttered shakily.

"And you think I can?" she snapped, her voice cracking as it went up an octave. Clint aggressively raised his head and furrowed his brow as he looked at her. Now Natasha was pissed. Clint knew that he wasn't the only one suffering from the events of Budapest, but right now, he was making it seem like he was.

"You're such a whiny little bitch, you know that?" Natasha snapped. "You're not the one who was shot, okay?"

"Yeah, but I had to watch you suffer," Clint shot back.

"Oh boo-fucking-who!" the red-head shouted. "It's not the first time you've had to watch me fight for my life so stop making this about yourself dipshit."

In an instant, Natasha was back on her feet and stomping back towards the ladder. She was angry. Clint wasn't the only one that went through the events of Budapest. For God's sake, she's the one who nearly died but he was brooding like it was him. So what if he had to watch her suffer the last time?

She reached the ladder and swung one leg over to put her foot on the top peg to carefully climb down. She didn't look back at Clint as she began her ascent. She just kept her head tucked down and put one foot after the other. Even when her feet touched solid ground, she didn't glance up at her partner, who was still brooding in the rafters.

With her head held high, she marched out of the training room without looking back. She let the door slam behind her and she hoped an eerie bang echoed throughout the gym to let Clint know just how pissed off she was.

* * *

With her mission file tucked under her arm and a plastic grocery bag in her right hand, Natasha marched through the lobby of Avengers Tower to the elevators. She jammed her thumb on the button to call an elevator and one of the doors slid open immediately. She stepped onto the elevator and turned towards the panel of buttons. Instinctively, she reached for the button for the 12th floor but she hesitated to push it. It had become habit for her to crash at Clint's place but given recent circumstances, it didn't seem right. Then again, it didn't seem right to go to her place either.

Giving in, she moved her thumb and pressed the button for the 15th floor. She stepped back and the doors to the elevator slid shut. The elevator gave a sickening lurch as it began its ascent. The ride was going to be much longer than usual. So much so that Natasha had begun to fidget the moment she passed the 12th floor. It was strange because Natasha Romanoff didn't fidget.

The elevator pinged as it came to a halt. The doors slid open to reveal the scarcely-lived-in apartment. With trepidation, Natasha stepped off of the elevator and into the apartment. She still came up here every once in a while to retrieve something she needed, but most of her stuff was on the 12th floor now.

The 15th floor felt like an alien planet to her. The furniture was different. The kitchen was devoid of utensils and various minor kitchen appliances. She knew the bed hadn't been slept in for months so it was probably stiff as a board. With a sigh, she stepped further into the apartment and headed into the kitchen.

Though she hadn't actually lived in the apartment in months, there were still a few non-perishable items in her cabinets. She pulled open one of the doors and found a box of tea. She pulled the box out and retrieved a packet of tea. She reached into another cabinet and pulled out a mug to fill with water. She set the mug in the microwave and punched in 60 seconds to heat the water up.

While she waited for her water to heat up, she quickly skimmed over the details of the mission once again. By the looks of it, Natasha and Clint, for the first time a while, wouldn't be playing husband and wife. Instead, they'd be traveling separately – though on the same commercial flight – and they'd bump into each other randomly once they got there. It was a plan so that they wouldn't draw much attention to themselves from the get-go.

Natasha heard the microwave beep to let her know that her water was fully heated. She spun around and popped open the microwave door to retrieve her mug. She carried the mug back over to the island and she dropped her tea bag into the mug. She turned her attention back to the mission file as she absentmindedly dunked her tea bag in and out of the mug.

When her tea was to her liking, she chucked the tea bag into the trash and started to sip on the hot liquid. For almost an hour she stood hunched over the mission file as she sipped her tea. She studied every ounce of information needed for this mission. She wasn't going to screw this up. It wasn't going to be like last time. Not on her watch.

When her mug was empty and her brain throbbed from an overflow of information, she slammed the folder shut and put her mug in the sink. She flipped the kitchen light off and grabbed the plastic grocery bag as she headed down the hall towards the bedroom.

She reached the bedroom door and she pushed it open. Reaching inside the door, she flicked on the switch and the room was flooded with light. She quickly glanced around, taking note that it was just the way she had left it, before heading to the attached bathroom. Flicking on that light as well, she slammed the grocery bag onto the countertop before reaching in to retrieve the items. She slammed the hair dye products onto the counter and then chucked the bag into the trash.

It had been a while since Natasha had dyed her hair. In fact, the last time she did it, she was still with the Red Room. Just looking at the products on her countertop brought back painful memories, but if they were going to make this mission work, she needed to get into Budapest unrecognized.

She flipped the first box over and read the directions carefully before setting to work. She prepared the first box of bleach before applying it to her hair. Little by little, she watched the red in her hair fade away as it was overcome by the bleach. She let it sit for a few minutes before she rinsed out the chemicals and completely washed her hair. Wrapping her hair up in a fluffy white towel, she chucked the empty box of bleach materials into the trash before sitting on the edge of the tub to read the directions for the blonde hair dye.

As she was reading the directions for the third time, she heard someone calling out her name from within the apartment. Instinctively, she stiffened and hesitantly rose from the edge of the tub. Suddenly, she regretted not grabbing one of her guns from the duffle bag that was stowed underneath her bed.

"Natasha? Are you here?" she heard Steve's voice.

Instantly, she relaxed before opening the door and heading through the bedroom and out into the hallway. She saw Steve awkwardly standing by the elevators with a manila folder in his hand, similar to the one Natasha had left on the kitchen counter. Immediately, her heart began to race. If Fury had reassigned the mission to Steve, that would only make it worse. She trusted Steve. He was her teammate after all, but this mission shouldn't have to be his burden.

"Hey Steve, what's up?" Natasha asked as she fixed the towel atop her head.

"Hey, umm…" Steve trailed off, eyeing the towel atop her head.

"Dying my hair," Natasha said bluntly.

"Right," Steve agreed. "Umm, anyways, Fury wanted me to drop this off. It's Clint's mission file. He said he hasn't come to get it yet so he figured you'd just give it to him."

Natasha didn't know where Clint was. If Fury hadn't seen him at all on base, then clearly he had gone elsewhere to brood. Either way, Natasha offered up a faint smile for Steve and took the file from him. "Thanks Steve. I'll give it to him when I see him," she said.

Steve eyed her suspiciously. He knew something was up, but Steve was a gentleman. He wouldn't pry. He nodded his head and said, "Alright, well, have fun dying your hair." With that, the super soldier loaded back onto the elevator, most likely to head to his own floor.

The moment the doors slid shut, Natasha hurled Clint's mission folder across the room, the papers fluttering and scattering all around. She watched until the chaos ceased before stomping back down the hall to the bathroom to finish her dye job.

She stepped into the bathroom and unwrapped her hair from the towel. Her hair was disgustingly bleached out, but not for long. She grabbed the materials for the next step and she set to work as she worked the chemicals through her hair. The strong smell assaulted her nostrils and she couldn't help but gag as she continued to run the product through her hair. When she was finished, she let the dye sink in until she rinsed out her hair. She dried it off with a fresh towel before glancing in the mirror to check out the finished product.

She barely recognized the person staring back at her. She still recognized her green eyes and full lips, but she seemed like a completely different person. The light blonde hair made her seem totally different. She could quite possibly pull off getting into Budapest without sending up a red flag.

Suddenly, a soft knock came from the other side of the bathroom door and Natasha's head instantly snapped in that direction. She eyed the door with trepidation and another soft knock echoed throughout the bathroom. Slowly, she padded towards the door and hesitated to open it. After a couple more knocks, she reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open to reveal a disheveled Clint Barton.

She'd only seen him a few hours ago, but he looked like absolute shit. He looked beyond tired and she wondered if he'd been drinking. It wouldn't be the first time to say the least. However, there was only a foot of space between them so if he had been drinking, Natasha would've been able to smell the alcohol on his breath.

She also noticed that the moment she opened the door, his demeanor had changed but only for a split second. A look of confusion and surprise had crossed his face and for a second, Natasha wondered why. Then she remembered that she had dyed her hair and Clint had most likely not been expecting her to look the way she did.

They stood there in the bathroom doorway just staring at one another. They hadn't exactly ended on good terms so there were a lot of things left unsaid. But right now, they didn't exactly know what to say to each other.

"H-hey Nat," Clint piped up nervously.

Suddenly, Natasha was overcome with an immense amount of anger. She reached out and punched him as hard as he could in the shoulder. The archer let out a yelp and his hand darted out to rub the spot he'd been punched.

"Hey, what the hell?" he protested.

"You're an ass," Natasha said as she turned to walk back into the bathroom. She sat down on the edge of the tub and continued to dry her hair with a towel. Anything to keep herself distracted from talking to her partner.

"Nat, I'm sorry. I really am," he pleaded as he stepped into the bathroom. "I know I overreacted."

"Overreacted?" Natasha scoffed. "You pretty much had a mental breakdown."

"Tasha," Clint said softly as he knelt down in front of his partner. "I know. That wasn't fair but can you _please_ forgive me? This sucks. This really sucks. I just…" The archer trailed off and he hung his head. Natasha stopped drying her hair and she let the towel fall to the floor before she tangled her fingers into the archer's dark blonde locks.

Quickly, he lifted his head and his blue-grey eyes met Natasha's green ones. There was a lot of hurt and pain behind both of their eyes so Natasha couldn't stay mad at him. They needed each other. They were two halves of a whole.

"You pull this shit again, I may start looking for a new partner just to piss you off," Natasha said.

Clint chuckled. "I know. I know. I'm sorry, okay?"

Natasha nodded slowly as she felt a faint smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Clint must've caught a hint of it because she saw him smirk before he briefly hung his head. When he raised it again, he also reached out and grabbed a lock of Natasha's damp now-blonde hair.

"So, blonde?" he asked incredulously. "You could've at least gone brunette."

Natasha shrugged. "Why not? They say blondes have more fun," she said with a smirk.

"I beg to differ," Clint said with a smirk. "I know this red-head that's quite a handful."

"Hmmm," Natasha purred. "Well, I guess I have to make quite an impression, don't I?"

"Hmmm," the archer hummed. "Enlighten me."

With a devious smirk, Natasha slipped her hands underneath Clint's shirt and ran her hands over the sculpted muscles. She continued to brush her hand over his chest until they reached his shoulders and he lifted his arms in the air. Natasha stripped him of the grey fabric and then chucked it on the floor.

"There's the Natasha I know," Clint drawled.

With a mischievous smirk and an evil glint in her eye, the assassin attacked his mouth with hers and they stumbled into the darkness of the rarely used bedroom on the 15th floor of Avengers Tower.

* * *

**They just can't stay mad at each other, can they? Haha. And I've seen a lot of gifsets on Tumblr of Clint and Natasha in Budapest and since Scarlett Johansson is a natural blonde, Natasha is a blonde in the gifset so I kind of ran with that.**

**Also, a lot of you keep griping about what happened in Budapest the first time around. Don't worry, my dear readers. I'm going to include flashbacks. You didn't think I'd write a story about Budapest the _second_time around and not talk about the first time around, did you? Yeah, so get ready. Things are going to get crazy!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Words can't even describe how sorry I am that I haven't updated this. The semester's winding down so I've been a bit busy with papers and projects and tests. But fear not, it will all soon be over. May 9th, you're so close yet so far away! But anyways, I wrote a really long update to hold you guys over. I hope you like it! Enjoy!**

* * *

It was early in the morning when Clint and Natasha finally mustered up enough energy to climb out of bed and get to work on their upcoming mission. After a quick shower together, they threw on their clothes and padded out to the living room. The papers from Clint's mission file were still scattered about the room in disarray while Natasha's was still on the kitchen counter.

Without a word to Natasha, Clint stepped forward and started to pick up the papers and stuff them back into their folder. For a few seconds, Natasha watched as the muscles in Clint's back and arms stretched with every bend as he retrieved the papers from the floor. Everything about Clint made going back to Budapest harder for her. Ever since Rome, things had changed between them. They had feelings for each other – though Natasha could argue that "feelings" were an understatement – and they were intimately involved. And it helped that Clint was pretty easy on the eyes too. Going back to Budapest wasn't going to be a cake walk.

A weak sigh pulled Natasha from her thoughts and she saw Clint flopping down on the couch with his mission file in his lap. She shook her head, as if to permanently shake the thoughts from her mind, and then padded into the kitchen to retrieve her own file. She swiped the file from the counter before noticing the box of tea on the counter by the sink. Putting the file back down, she pulled a package of tea from the box and reached overhead to grab a clean mug.

"You want some tea?" Natasha tossed over her shoulder as she began to fill the mug with water.

Clint grunted as he flipped through the mission file, his eyes never leaving the page. "Yeah, I guess so."

Natasha nodded to herself as she placed the mug in the microwave and set the timer for 60 seconds. She returned to the cabinet and retrieved another to fill it up as well. Not much later, the microwave beeped to signal that it was finished and she walked over to swap the mug with the scalding hot liquid in exchange for the mug with average temperature water. She dunked a tea bag in the first mug as she waited for the second mug to finish heating up. The microwave beeped again and Natasha reached behind her to retrieve the second mug. She dunked a tea bag in that mug as well before tucking her mission file under her arm so she could carry both mugs into the living room.

Clint's nose was practically buried in the mission file when Natasha reached the couch. She carefully shoved the mug of tea in front of Clint's face and he graciously took it with a grunt for a response. Natasha carefully stepped over Clint's legs, which were propped up on the coffee table, and then flopped down on the couch next to him.

Taking a sip of her tea, Natasha flipped open her folder to refresh her memory. Much of the details involving András Varga were pretty straightforward. It was the character Natasha would be portraying that she had to memorize. Since she wouldn't have Clint to lean on for backup for the first several days of the mission, she was going to have to memorize her character inside and out.

Natasha would soon be known as Mariska Benes, the new secretary for the CEO of the corporation Varga is supposedly targeting to embezzle from next. Recently he had been hired in the finance department of the corporation which would give him access to all of the accounts and statements for company. Even though Natasha would be working for the CEO, she had no doubt that Varga would come snooping around the CEO's office at some point.

"Well, at least this time around you won't have to wrestle me into a tux," Clint grumbled as he slapped his folder shut.

"I beg to differ," Natasha said as she closed her folder as well. "I have no doubt that Mariska Benes will manage to wrangle whoever you're supposed to be into a tux."

"Patrik Csorba," Clint said proudly. "New member of the security team."

"Easy there, Hawk," Natasha said. "Don't forget that Mariska and Patrik will be pairing up at some point so I _will_ get you into a tux whether you like it or not."

Clint rolled his eyes as he brought his mug up to his lips and sipped silently on his tea. Natasha smirked to herself. She knew how much Clint hated wearing tuxedos on missions; he claimed it restricted the range of motion in his arms. She knew it was a ridiculous excuse but she also knew Clint felt more comfortable in his SHIELD uniform or a plain cotton t-shirt.

"Well," Clint grunted as he set his mug on the coffee table in front of them and then stood from the couch. "Think we should get ready and head to base? We'll need an extra briefing before wheels up at 17:00."

Natasha nodded silently before retrieving her mug from the coffee table and standing up. Clint grabbed his mug, along with his mission file, before padding into the kitchen to set the mug into the sink. Natasha did the same before following Clint to the bedroom.

"I'm going to head down to my floor," he said as he retrieved his jacket from the foot of the messy, unmade bed. He shrugged it on and then turned back to Natasha. "Meet me down there when you're ready?"

Natasha nodded. She wasn't quite ready to be shipped off to Budapest. She felt like a cow being prepared for slaughter. Since she wouldn't be around Clint for the first couple of days, it felt even worse.

She felt Clint's calloused hands gently grab her by the shoulders. She raised her head to see Clint's blue-grey eyes staring back at her before he pulled her into a tight embrace. At first, she didn't quite know how to react. This hug had pretty much come out of blue so she wasn't quite sure how to respond to it. In the end, she simply wrapped her arms around Clint's frame and held him tight.

"We're going to be okay, right Nat?" Clint mumbled into her hair.

"You're not being very reassuring, Barton," Natasha grumbled.

"Just tell me we're going to be okay. I need to hear it."

Natasha stiffened at his words. Even if she did tell him, there was no way it would sound believable. She couldn't even convince herself that they were going to be okay during this mission. But she needed to tell him anyways. It was the only way.

"We're going to be okay, Clint," she mumbled into his neck.

Clint sighed as he hugged her a little tighter. They stayed in that tight embrace for a couple more minutes before releasing each other. Clint leaned forward and lightly pecked Natasha on the lips before finally departing the room.

Natasha stood rooted in place well after Clint had left the room. She stared at the messy bed and the clothing strewn across the room. There wouldn't be nights like this for a while. Not until this mission was over. She might as well relish in the memories as long as possible.

Finally, with a sigh, she stepped forward and started to tidy up the room. She picked up the random articles of clothing and shoved them into a laundry basket before turning back to the bed to haphazardly make it. She tossed the pillows randomly on the bed and then sighed as she fell back onto the mattress.

After relaxing for a couple of seconds, she pushed herself off of the bed and began to pack for the mission. Reaching under the bed, she pulled out a duffle bag and suitcase and started to pack aimlessly. She tossed several shirts and pairs of jeans into the suitcase while her weapons went into the duffle bag. When the bags were filled to the brim, she zipped them up, grabbed the rest of her belongings, and marched out of the room. She loaded onto the elevator and pressed the button corresponding to the 12th floor. The elevator gave a sickening lurch as it began its descent to Clint's floor.

The ride was short and the elevator pinged to signal that it had reached the 12th floor. The doors slid open to reveal Clint's apartment. As Natasha stepped off of the elevator, she heard the faint sound of a Dave Matthews Band song echoing throughout the apartment. Natasha set her bags by the elevator and then traipsed down the hall to find Clint.

She stopped outside Clint's bedroom only to find him half submerged in the closet. She watched as he dug around in the messy closet before pulling out a black oversized briefcase. He pulled back onto his haunches and then rose to his feet. He turned towards the doorway and found Natasha standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Mhmmm," Natasha hummed.

The former red head turned on her heel and headed back down the hall. Clint stayed on her heels as they headed to the elevator. Natasha reached her bag and swung her duffle bag across her chest before snapping the handle to the suitcase in place. Clint reached around her and pressed the button to call the elevator to their floor.

It took some time but the elevator finally pinged before the doors slid open. Instantly, both Clint and Natasha groaned. Standing in the elevator with his back resting against the back wall was Tony. He was wearing one of his finest tailored suits and his hair was coiffed to perfection. His arms were folded across his chest and there was a pair of designer sunglasses on his face. For a second, Clint and Natasha were tempted to wait for the next elevator but they were on a tight schedule. With a collective sigh, the assassins loaded onto the elevator and kept their backs facing Tony.

For a couple floors during their descent, Tony was eerily quiet. It almost put Clint and Natasha on edge. Tony Stark did not just ride the elevator with them and not make a snarky comment. But as expected, the billionaire pushed off of the back wall of the elevator and stepped up behind Natasha.

"So, Legolas, who's your friend?" Tony asked snidely. "Grow bored of Spidey?"

Clint snorted a laugh and Natasha sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Stark, just because I dyed my hair _does not_ mean I don't still know how to maim you 20 different ways with my pinky finger," the former red head griped.

"Whoa Red!" Tony exclaimed as he flinched away from Natasha. "You dyed your hair!"

"No shit, Sherlock," Natasha snapped.

"Ah," Tony said in curiosity. He was silent for a split second before speaking again. "So what's the sex like now?"

"Stark!" Clint roared.

"What? I'm just asking. I bet it's kinky. Blondes do have more f - ."

Before Tony could even finish his sentence, Natasha had him pinned against the back wall of the elevator by the throat.

"Nat," Clint said wearily in protest.

"Listen Stark," Natasha hissed, ignoring Clint. "I dyed my hair for a mission, a mission that I don't want to do. I didn't dye it for Clint. I didn't dye it for kinkier sex. I dyed it because I'm pretty sure I'd die if I went on this next mission as a red head. Got it?"

"Got it, Spidey," Tony wheezed.

Natasha icily glared at the billionaire, only tearing her eyes away when the elevator pinged to signal that it reached the main lobby. The former red head tore her eyes away from Tony and grabbed her suitcase from its position in the middle of the elevator. She didn't say a word to her partner as she marched out of the elevator and across the lobby to the SHIELD car waiting for them outside of Avengers Tower.

Without a word, Tony brushed past the two assassins to load into his own car. The two SHIELD agents loaded their luggage into the trunk of their own car before slipping into the backseat of the black SHIELD coupe. They snapped their seatbelts on and they gave the drive the okay that he could start heading to the base.

The car lurched forward and Natasha let out an involuntary gasp. She was barely off of American soil and she was already on edge. Taking a deep breath, Natasha closed her eyes in hopes of calming her nerves. As she took another deep breath, she felt a rough, calloused hand slip into hers. Her heart rate quickened as she felt Clint give her hand a gentle squeeze.

No matter how many times they told each other the mission would turn out fine and that they would be okay, they knew it wouldn't be okay. Together or apart, the nerves would still be there. Together, they'd still worry something would go wrong. Apart, they'd worry that something happened to the other.

As they sped down Fifth Avenue, they weren't quite sure if Budapest was ready for them. Or if they were ready for Budapest.

* * *

After an hour long briefing at the SHIELD base, Clint and Natasha loaded onto a SHIELD Quinjet to head to the SHIELD base in London. They strapped into the pilot and co-pilot seats and got ready for take-off. The flight to the London base passed in silence. Every so often, Clint and Natasha made small talk or quizzed each other on their personas they'd be assuming while in Budapest. Otherwise, they didn't say much to each other.

When they touched down at the SHIELD base in London, Clint and Natasha grabbed their luggage and headed out of the Quinjet to meet with the director of the London base. They followed one of the junior SHIELD agents into a meeting room to meet with the director and receive any other mission details that may have come up while they were in flight.

After everything was in order, Clint and Natasha got their belongings in order before loading into two separate cars to head to London's Heathrow Airport. They wouldn't be traveling together. Hell, this was the last time they'd see each other until God knows when.

With one last look at one another from across the hoods of the cars, they slipped into the backseats and headed to Heathrow for another exhausting flight.

* * *

The moment the wheels of the plane touched down at Budapest Liszt Ferenc International Airport, Natasha immediately assumed the persona of Mariska Benes. She couldn't make any mistakes. She wouldn't have Clint around to fall back on. She was on her own and she had to stay in character.

When the "Fasten Your Seatbelts" light turned off, Natasha was out of her seat and reaching into the overhead bin for her carry-on bag. As she tugged on the strap of her duffle bag, she could feel Clint's eyes boring into her back. He had been seated on the other side of the plane and a few rows back. She desperately wanted to look at him. She wanted to look into his blue eyes one more time until they officially had to part ways, but she couldn't. At least, not without making it obvious that they knew each other. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the floor as she adjusted the strap of her duffle bag.

It was a few more minutes until the Jetway between the airport and the plane was set in place. When they were given the okay to exit the plane, Natasha calmly stepped into the aisle and filed out of the plane. She walked with determination down the tunnel to the airport. In just a few seconds, she would be officially on European soil, specifically Budapest soil.

After a couple more steps, Natasha stepped through the doorway and into the airport gate. She was blinded by the brightness of the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and she almost put her arm up to shield her eyes from the light.

Taking in her surroundings, she felt her breathing hitch in her throat. Suddenly, she wasn't quite sure she could do this. She wasn't completely confident they could pull this off. She was suddenly yanked from her thoughts when someone bumped into her from behind. She was about to confront them when she saw him step around her. He didn't look at her. Instead, he kept walking, determined to reach his destination.

_Fucking Barton_, Natasha thought to herself with a smirk on her face. Only Clint knew when she was nervous and for the time being, a simple shove in the airport was the only way he could comfort her.

Adjusting the strap of her duffle bag, Natasha marched through the terminal to head to customs and baggage claim, two of her least favorite places when she traveled commercial. She stepped onto the escalator and began her descent into customs. When she reached the next floor, she stepped off of the escalator and immediately got into what she determined was the shortest line.

It felt like an eternity until she reached the customs officer. She handed him her fake passport that SHIELD issued her before she left the London base and then stood there on edge as the officer inspected the document. Time seemed to pass in slow motion and she wondered if the officer could see right through her fake identity.

_There's no way this is going to work_, Natasha thought to herself.

Several desks over, Clint was silently being assessed by his own customs officer. For a second, she just wanted him to look over at her. She just wanted him to share this moment of anticipation with her.

A loud _thump_ brought Natasha back to reality and she saw the customs officer slide her passport across the counter.

"_Üdvözöljük a Budapest_," the customs officer deadpanned. (_Welcome to Budapest_.)

Natasha snatched her passport off of the counter and then proceeded past the officer. She didn't release the breath she'd been holding in until she was several feet away from the customs desks. She'd made it into Budapest. In all honesty, the hard part was over.

She nervously adjusted the strap of her duffle bag once again and then took a couple steps forward before realizing that she hadn't seen Clint walk through customs. Her heart started to race at the thought of him not being granted access into the country. She couldn't do this alone. They may be working separately for the first few days of the mission but at least she would have contact with him. While they were at their apartments, they had the freedom to contact each other as much as they wanted. But if Clint got stopped at customs, there was no way she could go forth with this mission by herself.

The tiny assassin pivoted in place just in time to see Clint's customs officer stamping his passport. With a slight crooked smile, Clint grabbed his passport from the officer and stepped forward to proceed through the airport. For a split second, their eyes connected but Natasha quickly tore her eyes away from his gaze so she could make her way through the airport.

Waiting at baggage claim was a nightmare. Baggage claim was quite possibly tied with going through security as Natasha's least favorite thing about flying commercial. Roughly a half hour had passed until the baggage carousel started to rotate and the first piece of luggage dropped onto the carousel.

One by one the luggage dropped onto the carousel and traveled around to reach their respective owners. After a couple more minutes, Natasha saw her black suitcase with the red scarf tied onto the top handle drop onto the carousel. Instantly, she stepped forward and grabbed it, snapped the handle into place, and marched through the airport with her suitcase in tow.

It didn't take long for her to find a taxi to take her to the apartment she would be living at during the mission. She'd loaded her belongings into the trunk of the car and then slid into the backseat. She pulled out her phone that SHIELD had issued to her specifically for the mission and read the address to the driver of the cab in perfect Hungarian.

The apartment was located in District VIII of Budapest. It was located in an old building – like most apartments in major European cities nowadays – on the sixth floor, which just so happened to be the top floor. When she'd arrived at the building, she'd thanked her cab driver and thrust several forints over the seat to pay for the ride. She'd stepped out of the cab and grabbed her belongings before looking up at the building to stare at it in awe. Nothing really impressed Natasha anymore, but architecture was one thing that generally made her stare in admiration.

When she'd finally finished admiring her home for the duration of the mission, Natasha made her way into the building and up to her apartment on the sixth floor. She set her luggage right outside the door as she fumbled with the ancient lock. The door finally popped open after several minutes of struggle and the assassin was granted entry to the apartment.

It wasn't much. For missions that required SHIELD agents to actually have a place to live in a city, SHIELD never really splurged unless it required them to. For this particular mission, SHIELD had managed to procure small studio apartments for both Clint and Natasha. Natasha knew that much about Clint's apartment. That and it was just around the corner in case of an emergency. But Natasha's apartment was small and cozy with just enough space for her.

The room was lined with windows and there was a door to a balcony on the opposite end of the room from where Natasha currently stood. The bedroom area and the kitchen were fused as one with space for the bed – which came with the apartment thanks to SHIELD – on the left and the kitchen on Natasha's right. The kitchen came equipped with the necessary appliances, specifically a refrigerator, an oven, and a microwave. There was a decent amount of counter space, just enough to store a few food items. Through a door on Natasha's right was the bathroom, which was dark due to there being no window in the small room.

After surveying the room, Natasha stepped back out into the hallway, grabbed her belongings and stepped back into the room, shutting the door behind her. She rolled the suitcase to the left side of the room and hoisted it onto the bed to begin unpacking. She hadn't brought much with her in terms of civilians' clothes, but she needed to do something to help her pass the time. Tonight would be the most boring night of the entire mission for it didn't officially start until tomorrow when she would head to the corporate office for her first day of work.

It was far past nightfall when Natasha was finally situated. By that time, she'd grown hungry so she changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt she'd stolen from Clint before searching through the cabinets to see what SHIELD had stocked the apartment with. After studying the cabinets for a couple minutes, she decided on just a bowl of cereal so she grabbed a box of Cheerios and the jug of milk from the fridge. She poured herself a bowl and then abandoned the box of cereal and the jug of milk at the counter as she carried her bowl over to the bed.

Bored out of her mind, she snatched her mission file from her duffle bag and began to study once again. There was no room for mistakes or slip-ups during this mission. She had to memorize everything from top to bottom.

She was finishing up her last spoonful of cereal when she felt her SHIELD-issued phone vibrate from underneath her leg. She scooted around to pry the device out from underneath her and she couldn't help but smile when she saw the name flashing across the screen. Sliding her finger across the screen to answer the call, she couldn't help but make a joke.

"Calling to gloat about how much better your apartment is?" she teased the archer on the other end of the line.

She heard him chuckle and it felt good to finally hear his voice after so long. "You know they favor me, Romanoff. Just admit it."

"You didn't get a better apartment than me because I have a nice view of the Danube River," the former Russian assassin boasted.

"Dammit!" Clint hissed. "Okay, you win."

Natasha cracked a smile as she bowed her head to continue skimming the mission file in her lap. "So, kind of a shitty flight, huh?"

"Shitty doesn't even describe it," Clint breathed. "Are you doing okay? You seemed like you were going to have a panic attack in the airport."

Natasha slammed the mission file shut and then tossed it onto the floor. With a sigh, she lied back on the bed and nestled underneath the covers. She and Clint had kind of been inseparable since the botched mission in Rome. They didn't necessarily spend every waking moment together, but one of them was always there for the other if they needed something. He was only around the corner from her so the fact that they were so close yet so far away from one another made this even harder.

"I…" Natasha choked out. She rolled onto her side and tucked the phone between her ear and the pillow. "Clint, will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?"

It seemed like the most ridiculous request. In fact, Natasha couldn't even believe she was asking it. It was such a cliché, like something straight out of a cheesy romantic comedy. But if she couldn't have Clint in bed next to her to make her feel safe, then staying on the phone with him until one of them fell asleep was the next best thing.

"Of course, Nat," Clint breathed. There was the sound of rustling sheets as Clint most likely pulled the covers down on his own bed and slid in. Natasha heard him grunt – something he did when he couldn't get comfortable – and she had to stifle a laugh.

Finally, there was a sigh from Clint's end of the line and that's when Natasha knew he'd finally gotten comfortable. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders and snuggled into the mattress, waiting for some sort of response from Clint. But she knew him too well. She didn't doubt for a moment that the moment Clint's head had hit the pillow that he fell asleep. Her suspicions were confirmed when not even a minute later soft snores emanated from the other end of the line.

Smiling to herself, she pulled the phone out from underneath her head and switched it onto speaker phone. The studio apartment was soon flooded with the soft snores from Natasha's archer counterpart. She set the phone on the bedside table and rested her head on the pillow once again. Within seconds, the female assassin had been lulled to sleep by the soft snores of Clint Barton that acted like her own personal lullaby.

* * *

**Some fluffy fluff for you guys. I think I'll start the flashbacks in the next chapter so please stay tuned. Also, please stick with me for the next couple of weeks. The next update will most likely be on or around May 9th. If I get a chapter in before then, it will be a miracle.**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy. Please, please, please (yes, I'm begging) leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**

**P.S. If you read my _The Town_ fic, please go read the chapter titled "The Last Visit." Only one person reviewed it, therefore, there will be no update until more people review (I know, I sound like an asshole but I felt like I worked hard on that chapter and only one person reviewed it). So yeah, muahahahahaha!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Words can't even describe how sorry I am that I haven't updated this. I've been trying to adjust to being back home for summer so my sleep patterns are off and I'm working quite a bit. Plus, I'm having a hard time with this story now since the flashbacks are kicking in. I'm essentially writing two Budapest stories you know haha. Anyways, yes, the flashbacks kick in this chapter. I hope you like it and I hope it isn't lackluster. Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper."_

_Grabbing their belongings from the front desk, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper – otherwise known as Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff – followed the manager to the elevators. They'd just checked into their room and were now being taken upstairs by the manager, who so graciously decided to show them around._

_Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were a couple from California who were in Budapest on business, looking to sell wine across Europe. While Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were in Budapest to sell wine, Clint and Natasha were on the lookout for an arms dealer by the name of Andor Bartha._

"_We've stocked your room with drinks and snacks, as well as some of the finest champagne we have here at the hotel," the manager droned on and on as they loaded onto the elevator._

_The manager continued to talk about random details about the hotel while Clint and Natasha paid no attention, only nodding or humming their responses if they were addressed. The elevator ride came to an end when they finally reached their floor. The trio stepped off of the elevator and walked down the hall to Clint and Natasha's room._

"_Well, here we are," the manager announced as he swiped the card into the slot to gain access to the room. The light on the handle turned green and the manager opened the door, gesturing to let Clint and Natasha enter first. Natasha stepped inside, followed by Clint and the manager._

_Clint and Natasha weren't quite sure why the manager needed to bring them upstairs. It wasn't like Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were these big shot business people. They just ran a small winery in Northern California. And yet, the room was extravagant. SHIELD really did go all out this time around._

"_If you two need anything, don't hesitate to call me," the manager said as he handed Clint his business card._

_Clint nodded, tucking the business card into his jacket pocket. "We'll be sure to do that."_

_For a couple seconds, the manager hovered in the entryway of the room. After the awkward silence, the manager excused himself and exited the room, letting the door slam in the process._

"_Thought he'd never leave," Natasha whined as she dropped her purse onto the bed._

"_Clingy, much?" Clint added._

"_Might want to keep an eye out for him," Natasha said as she started to unload the contents of her purse. "He seems fishy to me."_

"_Everyone seems fishy to you," Clint said as he dropped their suitcase on the floor and started to unpack._

"_Whatever," Natasha groaned. "Should we start with surveillance?"_

"_Guess so," Clint agreed. "Café for you and the business district for me?"_

"_Sounds like a plan."_

* * *

Clint walked into the building that was home to Cinege Corporation for his first day of work. Even though he had fallen asleep while he was on the phone with Natasha and slept through the whole night, he didn't sleep well. His subconscious must have known he was in Budapest, therefore causing a restless night of sleep. His nerves were getting the better of him and it was affecting his sleep patterns.

From across the lobby, Clint spotted Natasha making her way to the front desk. Even without her fiery red hair, he wouldn't miss her. He was so finely tuned to her that with blonde hair or red hair, he could probably spot her from a mile away.

He watched as she conversed with the woman at the front desk before being handed a swipe card and an ID badge. He waited for her to swipe her way into the building before he, too, made his way over to the front desk.

"_Tudok segíteni?_" the dark haired woman asked. (_May I help you?_)

"_Én vagyok Patrik Csorba, az új biztonsági őr_," Clint stated in perfect Hungarian. (_I'm Patrik Csorba, the new security guard_.)

"_Természetesen!_" the dark haired woman exclaimed as she opened a drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. (_Of course!_) She rooted through the envelope and pulled out various items, including his own swipe card and ID badge.

In fluent Hungarian, the dark haired woman explained where he should head to next. With a polite thank you and a firm handshake, Clint gathered up his items and headed towards the elevators. He swiped his card through the slot before walking through the turnstiles to access the elevators.

Waiting patiently in a crowd of people, an elevator finally reached the main lobby. Once the elevator's passengers filed out, the awaiting crowd piled into the elevator. When Clint stepped inside, he pressed the button for the basement and then squeezed himself into the elevator so that more people could pile in.

When everyone was loaded in, the elevator doors shut and started its descent to the basement first. The passengers stood in complete silence, the only sound was of everyone's faint breathing echoing through the small chamber. After a short ride, the elevator reached the basement and the doors slid open. Politely excusing himself, Clint pushed through the crowd and barely stepped out of the elevator before the doors started to shut.

Glancing around at his surroundings, he had a sudden flashback to the Monaco mission. The bleak white walls of the basement were reminiscent of the secret hallways in Pierre Moreau's hotel. Clint shuddered as he thought of the recent memory then took a step forward to find the office of his supervisor, Levi Graner.

Clint followed the hallway, his footsteps eerily echoing down the empty hallway. If this had been a mission in any other city, he wouldn't be as on edge. However, since he was in Budapest, his nerves were acting up.

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway and found a door with the name "Levi Graner" etched on a plaque hung by the door. Taking a deep breath, Clint raised his fist and rapped his knuckles on the door three times.

"_Igen?_" a deep voice called from the other side. (_Yes?_)

Clint announced who he was, stating his name and his purpose. A couple seconds had passed in complete silence before Clint heard the sound of footsteps and the door was wrenched open. Standing in front of him was a burly, middle-aged man. He had to be about a foot taller than Clint and definitely slightly heavier. He had a blonde handlebar mustache and thinning blonde hair.

"Ah! Patrik! I've been waiting for you, boy!" Graner exclaimed. "Come in! Come in!"

Surprised to see how jovial Graner was, Clint stumbled into the office as Graner pulled him in. Shutting the door behind them, Clint awkwardly stood in the middle of the office while Graner walked around to the other side of his desk and plopped down in his comfy chair.

"Sit! Sit!" Graner said as he gestured wildly.

Clint stumbled into the seat and watched as Graner fiddled around with the documents on his desk. He pushed several of them aside before finding the one he was looking for.

"Aha! Here we go," Graner said as he pushed the document across the desk towards Clint. Hesitantly, Clint reached for the paper and began to read the page. Most of it was just basic protocol, what to do in certain emergency situations, and the rules for calling out sick and such.

"It's pretty straightforward. You can read it when you get home later," Graner said before searching through the mess of papers again. He grunted as he shifted a pile of papers across the desk before retrieving the one he was looking for. He smoothed out the white sheet and then handed it to Clint.

"That's your schedule. Make sure you're at least 10 minutes early. If there are any discrepancies, let me know sooner rather than later," Graner said.

Clint shook his head. "Nope, it actually looks pretty good to me."

"Great!" Graner exclaimed. He rose from his chair with a grunt before walking to the front of his desk. He clapped Clint on the shoulder and flashed a toothy grin. "Why don't I introduce you to some of the guys?"

Clint shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

* * *

With her ankles crossed and her hands resting in her lap, Natasha sat outside the office of Cinege Corporation's CEO and founder, Salamon Cinege.

The man had been in a meeting for the last hour, and according to one of Cinege's assistants, the meeting had been going for almost two hours before she'd arrived. Now, as she waited outside of his office, Natasha couldn't help but sigh. It was her first day and she'd already wasted an hour. From where she was sitting, there was barely an opportunity to people watch and observe her surroundings. In a situation like this, she would roam around but she didn't want to draw attention to herself – especially on the first day – so she just stayed put and kept silent.

From the other side of the door, she heard the buzz of voices grow closer to the door. Suddenly, Natasha's heart started to race out of excitement. She hoped that, finally, there would be some excitement.

The door to Cinege's office opened and a crowd of people filed out and into the waiting area. No one seemed to notice Natasha seated in the chair next to the door – not that she expected them to – but she at least thought Cinege would come out and look for her.

Within a couple minutes, the crowd had dispersed, most likely so everyone could return to their respective offices and cubicles. The waiting area turned eerily silent and Natasha wondered why Cinege wasn't coming out to welcome her. Turning to her left, she noticed that the door to Cinege's office was closed once again.

"What the fuck?" she hissed under her breath.

Fed up, Natasha grabbed her belongings and marched across the waiting area to approach one of Cinege's assistants. Alida, one of Cinege's assistants, was seated in a plush armchair with a laptop resting on her knees. She had been the first person Natasha met when she reached Cinege's office. Alida was a stuck up, big breasted, blonde bimbo who wore clothes that were too tight for her frame and make-up that was too bright for her face. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a chignon and she wore a pair of black square-rimmed glasses that she probably thought upped her sex appeal.

The moment Alida had met Natasha, she had scoffed in Natasha's face. It was almost as if she was offended that Cinege had hired someone that could possibly compete with her looks and physique. From the get go, Natasha could tell Alida was going to be a problem, but Natasha was here to find Varga and take him down. If Alida became a distraction, she'd just rip that fake blonde hair from its roots and set it on fire.

Natasha approached Alida, who hadn't torn her eyes away from her laptop, and cleared her throat. Alida continued to type and purposely ignore Natasha. Rolling her eyes, Natasha cleared her throat again – louder this time around. With a sigh, Alida stopped typing and raised her head to look at Natasha.

With a snarky smile, Natasha glared at Alida. "Hey Alida, does Mr. Cinege plan on coming out to meet me anytime soon? I'd really like to get to work," Natasha said sweetly but with a slight edge in her voice.

Alida sighed testily. "Mr. Cinege is a very busy man, Ms. Benes," she said. "He will come out to meet you when he's ready. Now I would suggest that you sit back down in your seat and wait patiently."

Natasha scoffed and then turned on her heel to return to her seat. She wasn't even two steps away when she heard the typing begin again and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She crossed the room and plopped back down in the plastic chair with a sigh.

She only hoped Clint was having better luck.

* * *

"To Patrik!"

"To Patrik!" a round of deep voices echoed as they raised their beers and clinked their glasses together.

As much as Clint liked the welcoming party, he couldn't get too friendly with some of these guys. Any of them could be an enemy, a target. He couldn't make any mistakes.

The group of men took long swigs from their glasses before slamming them down on the table. Clint took a small sip of his beer before setting his glass down on the table too. Even though Clint wasn't officially a member of the security team, he still thought drinking on the job was inappropriate. Half of these guys were still on the clock so Clint was seriously questioning their security skills.

"Csorba, tell us about yourself," a man named Bartos boomed as he wiped the beer from his face with the back of his hand.

Clint nodded. "Oh, well, I'm from Debrecen. My parents died when I was six so I pretty much lived in an orphanage my entire life. When I became of age, I worked a whole bunch of odd jobs. Carpenter, bank teller, waiter, you name it, I probably worked it at one point.

"Finally, I got a job in London for a security team," Clint continued with his fake back story. "I was there for several years and then I came here." He shrugged his shoulders and then reached for his beer, taking a long swig and then setting the glass back on the table.

"Heard great things about you, Csorba," Graner said as he raised his glass in a salute. "Don't let us down."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Clint said.

The group of men sat at the round table in the dimly lit basement for almost a half hour before they started to disperse and return to their posts. The men that were heading home from the night shift wished Clint luck while the men returning to their posts noted that they'll see him later.

Setting his empty glass of beer on the table, Clint followed Graner down the hallway to return to the less questionable part of the basement. They passed by the elevators and headed back towards Graner's office. Before they'd even reached the end of the hallway, Graner stopped outside of a white door and pulled out his keys. He shoved one of the keys into the lock and twisted it to gain access to the room beyond the door. Graner stepped inside and then beckoned for Clint to follow him.

Hesitantly, Clint stepped into the room and was greeted with a wall of small screens. Each screen was colored black and white and in the bottom right corner was a clock, noting the time down to the very last second.

"I'll start you off easy," Graner boomed, interrupting Clint's thoughts. "You can just do surveillance for today. Tomorrow night will be the good stuff since you're on the night shift."

Clint nodded. Graner beckoned for him to take a seat next to him at the counter. Clint pulled the chair out – the legs scraping across the floor with a sickening screech – and he plopped down as he waited for further instruction. With a grunt, Graner pulled himself closer to the counter before pointing to various screens to begin Clint's training.

It was simple. Clint just had to keep an eye out on the surveillance footage to make sure nothing went to hell. If anything did, he had to call for backup from the rest of the security team and take care of the situation.

Briefly, Graner pointed out several important screens that were vital for Clint to keep an eye on.

"This one," Graner said as he pointed to a screen to Clint's left. "This one is the most important. That's Mr. Cinege's office."

The screen was divided into four. There were two viewpoints on the interior of Mr. Cinege's office while the other two were two different viewpoints on the waiting area outside of his office. In the bottom left square, Clint noticed a familiar blonde seated in a plastic chair outside of Mr. Cinege's office. She looked rather bored but instead of fiddling around in her purse or playing with her phone, she simply sat still and faced forward.

"Make sure nothing happens around Mr. Cinege's office," Graner said, interrupting Clint's thoughts once again. "He is the CEO and founder of this company after all."

Clint mentally noted this before nodding in understanding. "Got it."

"Great!" Graner said as he grunted and stood from his seat. "I'll leave you to it."

Before Clint could even reply, Graner was across the room and out the door. The slamming of the door echoed throughout the closet-like room. Clint sighed as he turned his attention back to the screens and prepared for a long day of watching TV.

* * *

Natasha whipped open the door to her apartment, letting it slam against the wall as it swung wide open. She chucked her keys and purse onto her bed before heading into the kitchen to search for a clean glass.

On her way home, she'd stopped by a local liquor store for some vodka. She'd had a shitty day. It had been 4:30 when Mr. Cinege had finally let her into his office; her whole day had been wasted by sitting on that plastic chair and picking at her cuticles. When she finally met with him, she found that the man was very stuck up, self-centered, and a money hungry bastard.

_Him and Stark would get along just great_, Natasha had thought.

However, Mr. Cinege had apologized. Apparently, Cinege Corporation had just gone on a hiring spree and the staff roster needed to be updated. The task had taken the whole day, or so he insisted. Either way, Mr. Cinege promised he would set up Natasha with some work for the next day.

But that didn't make Natasha feel any better. A whole day of prying into the inner workings of Cinege Corporation had been wasted. She slammed the bottle of vodka onto the counter and grabbed a glass from the cabinet above her head. In one swift movement, the cap to the bottle was off and the clear liquid was cascading into her glass. If she were any angrier, she would drink it straight from the bottle, but she was on a mission. She had to be, at least, a little dignified.

She finished pouring the clear liquid into her glass and raised it to her lips, but the sound of her phone ringing made her stop. She groaned as she slammed the glass down on the counter and crossed the room to answer her phone. Snatching her purse off of her bed, she rooted around the bag and pulled out her phone. Surprisingly – but at the same time, not surprisingly – Clint's name was flashing across the screen.

Smiling like a little school girl, Natasha answered the phone with lightning speed.

"Hello?" she said.

"Are you alone in the house?" Clint said, disguising his voice like a killer from horror movies.

"You know, Barton, if you're going to prank me, at least block your number," Natasha said as she padded across the room to retrieve her vodka.

"Shit!" the archer cussed. "I thought I did."

Natasha giggled as she brought the glass up to her lips and reveled in the sweetness that was her beloved cocktail. "You're such an idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, but I'm _your_ idiot," the archer mocked flirtatiously.

"Shut it, Barton," the female assassin snapped. She strolled across the room once again and crawled onto her bed before nestling into the middle with her vodka cradled between her legs. "Anything you got after the first day?"

"Nothing much," Clint sighed. "I stared at a wall of TVs for the majority of the day."

"That sounds way more interesting than what I did."

"Yeah, Cinege seems like an asshole for making you wait 'til 4:30 to meet with him," Clint growled.

"Were you spying on me, Hawk?" Natasha asked flirtatiously.

"It's my job," Clint chuckled. "But seriously, it's my job. I had to watch the live surveillance footage. I'm pretty sure that's why I have a headache right now."

"Take some aspirin and suck it up," Natasha said as she took another sip of vodka.

The archer scoffed. "I can handle it. I just thought you'd care enough to know."

"Well, you thought wrong," Natasha said with a smile. She was only joking. If she stared at a wall of TVs for hours, she'd probably have a headache too.

"So, I guess neither of us had any luck today," Clint said dejectedly.

"Looks like it," Natasha sighed.

Usually, after their first day on a mission, they had something to work from. From there, they would strategize. However, since neither one of them had had any luck, Natasha just wished Clint was here to share this vodka with her, mostly because she knew she shouldn't finish it all by herself.

And that's when Natasha remembered that Clint lived a couple streets over from her. In the event of an emergency, either one of them could be there in a heartbeat. In this instance, pure boredom could count as an emergency.

"Hey, umm, Clint?" Natasha asked hesitantly.

"Yeah Tash?" Clint answered.

"Do you…" she started but trailed off. They weren't supposed to be together until later on in the mission. Doing this would be against protocol, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted Clint with her. "Do you maybe want to come over?"

The archer didn't say a word, but Natasha knew him far too well. He had to be grinning from ear to ear right now. "Patrik Csorba hasn't met Mariska Benes yet," Clint said.

"But Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton have," Natasha retorted.

Another lengthy pause. "Keep your balcony door unlocked." With that, the line went dead.

Giddily, Natasha jumped off of the bed and grabbed another glass from the cabinet so that she could be a proper host for her incoming visitor.

* * *

**I hope it didn't suck. This was written over the course of like five days. By the way, if anyone speaks Hungarian (though I doubt it), I know the grammar isn't right because it's from Google Translate. So yeah, you won't see a lot of Hungarian in this story since I don't speak it. But I'll still try to incorporate it.**

**Also, I mentioned a story a while back (possibly in this story, I can't remember) about Clint disappearing for several years during a solo mission, but when he returns, everything is different at SHIELD, including Natasha. She's moved on, professionally and romantically, so he must win her back. I believe I'm going to try to start it sometime this week and have it posted. Keep a look out for it if you're interested!**

**Anyways, enough of my rambling, as always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they help motivate me to write so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I know I am doing an absolutely horrible job with updating this. I know where I want this to go but I'm having a hard time conveying it. I hope this chapter doesn't suck though the plot picks up a bit. I hope you like it! Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha didn't really want to leave Clint – especially since he was snoring and lying naked in her bed – but duty called. She had gotten dressed quickly before leaving a note on her pillow next to his. Hesitantly, she pressed a soft kiss to his temple before slipping out of the apartment unnoticed.

She'd arrived at Cinege Corporation at nine o'clock on the dot. Fortunately, Mr. Cinege was ready for her when she'd arrived on the top floor of the building. He was fiddling around with a laptop at a desk right outside of his office when she'd approached him. Immediately, he shot out of his seat and walked around the desk to shake Natasha's hand.

"Ms. Benes, I'm so glad you were able to make it today," Mr. Cinege said. "I'm terribly sorry about yesterday."

Natasha shook her head. She brushed off his apology and reassured him that it was all right. Sure she was a day behind on surveillance but she'd make up for it today.

Fortunately, Mr. Cinege put Natasha right to work. He gave her a quick crash course on the company's databases before handing her a folder of tasks. With that, he walked into his office – his door swinging shut behind him – and left Natasha to it.

The work was tedious and boring, but Natasha would get through it in no time. She had a knack for speeding through paperwork when she had another task at hand. Rifling through the papers, she entered the information into the database. One by one, she entered the data but she kept an eye out for any suspicious information regarding Varga. Of course he wouldn't be using his own name, but any names that seemed suspicious would raise a red flag for Natasha.

After about 20 minutes, the data entry work was finished. Until Mr. Cinege or someone else approached her with more work, she had some free time to peruse the database. Logging back on, she entered her username and password before scrolling through the endless amount of information.

Everything seemed normal to Natasha. All of the financial accounts were in order. The staff was in their rightful places. To Natasha, it seemed that Varga hadn't made his move yet.

Just as she was about to open the financial accounts folder, the phone on her desk rang, causing Natasha to jump. She looked around the room to check if anyone noticed only to find that she was the only one in the vast room today. The assassin took a deep breath and reached out for the phone to answer it.

It was a usual phone call for Mr. Cinege – some big-time business man looking to make an appointment with the famed business tycoon. So, Natasha minimized the database program and quickly opened the planner program to look at Mr. Cinege's availability. She listed the business tycoon's availability to the caller and then penciled him in for a two o'clock appointment on Friday. When everything was arranged, she bid the caller goodbye and hung up the phone.

_Well, that just killed five minutes_, Natasha thought glumly.

As she was about maximize the database program, Mr. Cinege strolled out into the waiting area and stopped in front of Natasha's desk. He dropped a folder overflowing with papers onto her desk, letting it land with a _thud_.

"Mariska, would you mind making photocopies of these papers? I need at least 10 copies of each for the weekly meeting this Friday," Mr. Cinege said.

"Of course," Natasha said with a smile.

"Great!" With that, Mr. Cinege retreated back to his office, closing the door behind him.

_What the fuck am I? An intern?_ Natasha thought angrily.

With a sigh, she rose from her chair and gathered up the folder to head to the photocopy room on the other end of the floor. Before she left her desk, she locked her computer so that no one could check on her progress. She didn't want anyone to log on and find that she'd been snooping around.

Making sure she had all of the necessary items, she marched across the floor to the photocopy room. She didn't make eye contact with anyone as she walked across the floor but she did manage to catch sight of some people out of the corner of her eye. From what she could see, some people were just average workers, but some people sent up a red flag for the assassin so she made sure to make a mental note.

Finally reaching the photocopy room, Natasha set the folder down on the table next to the photocopier and opened it to pull out the first sheet. She inserted it into the photocopier. She pressed the amount of copies she needed, adjusted the settings, and then hit photocopy. The machine buzzed to life before spitting out the papers one by one. Soon enough, the machine's job was finished.

_Well, one down. Fifty more to go_, Natasha thought with a sigh.

Pulling out the last piece of paper and replacing it with the next one, she set the preferences and then hit copy. The machine buzzed to life again, spitting out the correct amount of copies.

This went on for the next hour. Copy the paper. Set the copy amount. Press copy. The machine spits out the amount of documents. Repeat. After a while, she had begun to skim some of the documents for any sort of useful information. If she had to do this mindless work, she might as well make some use of it.

For the most part, the papers didn't contain any useful information. It was basic statistics about the company, as well as the staff roster. Without any start date mentioned next to the staff members' names, there was no way Natasha could identify Varga's alias.

The financial documents weren't much help either. Most of it was pretty straightforward, detailing the company's expenses and profits from the past year. But as Natasha continued to study the paperwork, the financial statements didn't seem to line up with the current situation.

Per SHIELD's records, András Varga had been hired by Cinege Corporation a full three weeks before Clint and Natasha had even arrived in Budapest. By this point, he would be fully established in the company and making his way towards embezzling money from Cinege. So why was an unauthorized amount of money being withdrawn from the company's account once a month?

"What the hell?" Natasha muttered to herself.

"Everything all right, Ms. Benes?"

Natasha gasped and jumped nearly ten feet in the air. She whirled around to find Alida leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded across her chest. There was a snarky smirk stretched across her face as she watched Natasha.

Alida was the last person Natasha wanted to see, but the assassin put on her best fake smile. "Yeah, I think the machine's on the fritz. There are some ink smudges on the corners of some papers," Natasha said nonchalantly.

Alida nodded. "When you're done with that, do you mind grabbing Mr. Cinege some coffee? Two shots of espresso with two packets of sugar."

"Yeah, sure," Natasha chirped with a fake smile.

"Great," Alida deadpanned before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

Less than a second later, Natasha's smile faded. "I'm not a fucking intern, whore," the assassin scoffed.

Turning her attention back to the financial records, she studied the paper. The withdrawals were small, unable to be detected on a larger scale. Over the past six months, someone had been withdrawing at least $500 from Cinege Corporation's account at least once a month. It was a small enough withdrawal that it could fly under the radar and it wouldn't cause the company to go bankrupt.

But this had been going on for the past six months and Varga had just started working for the company as of three weeks ago. Either Varga had been targeting the company for months or he just so happened to take someone else under his wing.

* * *

Clint stumbled into the lobby of Cinege Corporation, fighting his way against the crowd of businessmen and women who were making their way home for the night. Tonight would be Clint's first shift during the night. He'd spent the better part of the day sleeping in Natasha's bed. When it came time for him to get ready for work, he left a quick note for Natasha on her bed before traveling via rooftop back to his apartment.

He'd spotted Natasha exiting one of the elevators just as he was swiping his card to walk through the turnstiles. He desperately wanted to say something to her, but Mariska and Patrik weren't supposed to know each other. So, as she walked past him, he kept his gaze focused forward.

Clint easily got onto an elevator since it was the end of the work day for most of the people in the building. He pressed the button corresponding to the basement and the elevator doors slid shut, encasing only Clint inside.

The ride to the basement was a short one. The doors slid open following its descent and Clint stepped out, veering off to the right to meet Graner in his office to report for duty. He reached Graner's office in no time and rapped his knuckles on the white door.

"Csorba?" Graner boomed from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, it's me," Clint answered.

Graner opened the door and shepherded Clint inside. They shot the breeze for a couple seconds before Graner started to get down to business. The basics of Clint's first night shift were simple. Keep an eye on the monitors. Patrol the floors every so often. If anyone tries to get inside, call the police or shoot them yourself.

When Clint's objectives were clear, Graner packed up his belongings and headed out of the room to leave Clint to it.

"It's gonna be a _long_ night," the archer groaned as he headed out of Graner's office and down the hall to the surveillance room.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, plopping down in one of the uncomfortable, plastic chairs. From underneath the counter, Clint popped open the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He took a long swig from the bottle and then propped his feet up on the counter to prepare himself for the onslaught of boredom.

* * *

Natasha knew it had to be illegal, but she'd made a copy of the financial records for herself to take home with her. What's one less piece of paper in the photocopier anyways? It's not like anyone was keeping inventory on that anyways. And if they found out she made a photocopy of personal company records for herself, what did it matter if she lost her job as Mr. Cinege's secretary? It wasn't her real job anyways.

Natasha sighed as she flopped down on her bed and pulled the paper out of her purse. She unfolded it and smoothed it out against her legs before pulling it up to her face to examine it. Over the past six months, someone had withdrawn a total of $3,000 from Cinege Corporation's account. Natasha knew it wasn't Varga; he didn't have the technological capability. Plus, he wasn't too smart in that department.

Natasha had no doubt that the person withdrawing money from Cinege Corporation's account was involved with Varga. This had to be just the beginning. This was just the calm before the storm, before Varga took millions and ran.

The female assassin reached into her purse and retrieved her SHIELD-issued phone. She opened the camera application and quickly snapped a picture of the financial document. Setting the paper down on her bed, she quickly typed away on her phone as she uploaded the picture to the SHIELD database.

When the upload was complete, she set her phone down and picked up the financial document. Staring at the paper, she knew she was missing something. This wasn't Varga's doing, which meant his accomplice could be anyone. For all Natasha knew, it could be Alida. Hell, it wouldn't surprise the female assassin if it was that blonde bimbo.

She fell back against her bed and held the piece of paper in front of her face, in hopes that it would give her some answers.

* * *

It was a little after eleven o'clock at night when Clint started to doze off. Of course he'd catch himself and get up to walk around and stretch. He couldn't fall asleep on the job, especially during his second shift.

The evening had been mostly uneventful. About an hour ago, Clint had done a patrol of the first few floors of the building. Within the next hour, he'd patrol the rest of them. For now, he was going to stare at the screens and hope something exciting happened.

After about 20 minutes of staring at the screens, Clint's vision had started to grow blurry. This was the only way he knew he was really tired. Once again, Clint stood up and stretched. He craned his neck from side to side and stretched his arms behind his back.

When he figured he was awake enough, he returned to his seat. Just before his butt hit the seat, he noticed something move out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flitted to the screen corresponding to the floor for Mr. Cinege's office.

"What the fuck?" the archer hissed as he sprang from his seat and stood in front of the screen, his nose nearly touching the glass.

Behind the desk that Natasha was usually stationed at was a shadowy figure rifling through a folder. Its back was facing the security cameras. Even the security cameras that were pointed towards its front couldn't get a good view of its face.

Clint watched in awe as the figure continued to rifle through the papers from Natasha's desk. Finally, the figure plucked a small pile of papers from the folder before returning the folder back to Natasha's desk. The figure stood there for a couple seconds, counting the papers in their grasp, before turning on their heel and heading out of the waiting room.

"Shit!" Clint cussed. He was out of the surveillance room and sprinting down the hall in a flash. His gun was already loaded and in its holster on his belt, but Clint felt naked without his bow. If it wasn't so conspicuous, he would bring it on the job with him.

He was at the end of the hallway within seconds and punching the button to call the elevator. It felt like an eternity until the elevator finally arrived. There was no way Clint would be able to catch up to the figure now.

The elevator finally pinged to signal its arrival and Clint slipped through the doors before they'd even finished opening. He jammed his fist onto the button for floor 20 and then onto the button to close the doors.

"Come on! Come on!" Clint groaned as the elevator doors slid shut at an uncomfortably slow pace.

The elevator lurched upwards and Clint let out a breath. He wasn't in the clear yet, but at least the elevator was moving. As the elevator traveled upwards, Clint wondered how the bastard had managed to get into the building in the first place. He'd been keeping close watch on the cameras for the entrances. It couldn't be an employee because there was no chance they'd be able to walk through the turnstiles since the scan cards don't work once they've left for the day. There was no chance it could be Natasha either. If she were coming in to do surveillance, she would at least try to get a hold of him first to let him know. This had to be an enemy of the company. This had to be Varga.

After an intensely long and aggravating elevator ride, Clint reached the 20th floor. The doors slid open and Clint tugged his gun from its holster. He held it firmly in front of him with both hands and cautiously crept out of the elevator.

Turning corners with caution, Clint kept an eye out for the shadowy figure. When he finally reached the waiting area outside of Mr. Cinege's office, Clint found that it was empty. If he hadn't been watching the surveillance footage, he would have thought that no one had been here just less than five minutes ago.

He didn't lower his gun but he relaxed the muscles in his shoulders as he moved around the room. With the exception of the figure taking the documents from Natasha's folder, there didn't seem to be any foul play.

"Fuck!" Clint hissed.

He'd failed. That was all he could think. Not just in the mission but in his security job. He knew it was just for the mission, but he knew he was going to get an earful when he reported this to Graner.

Clint lowered his weapon and let his shoulders slump forward as he headed out of the waiting area. He dragged his feet back to the elevators and accepted the fact that he'd failed. Graner was going to be pissed. Fury was going to be pissed. But most importantly of all, Natasha was going to be pissed. And when Natasha was genuinely pissed, Clint was terrified of her.

Clint reached the elevators and pressed the button for the basement. Sighing in defeat, he hung his head and pressed his thumb and forefinger in the corners of his eyes.

"This is fucking bullshit," Clint groaned under his breath as he raised his head. He glanced at the elevator before aimlessly glancing at his surroundings. As he looked around, something on the floor down the hall caught the archer's eye.

Hesitantly, the archer stepped down the hall to investigate this new development. He reached the item and crouched down to examine it. It was the cover to one of the vents, which was a couple feet down the hall from Clint. It had been carelessly tossed aside and to anyone else, it would have been nothing. But Clint remembered from earlier in the night that one of the surveillance cameras had gotten a perfect shot of this hallway, sans vent cover on the floor.

"Son of a bitch," Clint cussed. "That fucker's in the vents."

Crawling down the hall, he reached the vent and peered inside. The suspect was long gone, but that would explain why he hadn't showed up on security footage until he reached the 20th floor.

Clint still wasn't sure if it had been Varga or someone else. All Clint knew was that he needed to request the night shift for tomorrow night too.

* * *

**Hmmm who do you think it was? Was it Varga? Slutty Alida? Or someone we haven't met yet? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated so please review, review, review! I'd really like to know what you guys think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**My apologies once again for the delay in updates for this. This seems kind of short to me, but at least it's something. I would have posted this last night but I was having trouble with the site. Anyways, here it is. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

**Note: Italics section is a flashback to Clint and Natasha's first time in Budapest.**

* * *

In her half-asleep haze, Natasha could've sworn her bed was vibrating as if a minor earthquake was rocking the city of Budapest. But alas, it was merely her phone. Groggily, the female assassin rubbed her eyes and then retrieved her phone from its safe spot underneath her pillow.

The screen was flashing Clint's name. Given the time – 5:17 in the morning, to be exact – she hoped this wasn't a social call. Sliding her finger across the screen to answer the call, she sighed and then sat in an upright position.

"What, Barton?" Natasha barked.

"You'll never believe this!" Clint hissed excitedly. The archer sounded excited but concerned at the same time.

"This better be good, Bird Brain."

"It is. I swear!" Clint hissed dramatically. "Someone broke into the building."

Natasha shook her head before lowering it to rest her forehead on her raised knees. "Way to go, Barton. I'm guessing you let him or her get away too."

"No, hear me out, Tasha," Clint said breathlessly. "The floors were calm. There were no disturbances. I may have been partially falling asleep but I noticed this even in my half asleep boredom and - ."

"Do you have a point, Barton? If not, I'm going back to sleep," Natasha growled.

"They got in through the ventilation system."

Natasha perked up at this new revelation. This was certainly an interesting development. From what Natasha and Clint had learned about the building, one of the air vents on the exterior of the building was in one of the security camera's blind spot. It had been detailed in their mission briefing and how they forgot about it, they weren't quite sure.

Now they had a serious problem.

"Nat, you still there?"

Natasha shook her head to bring herself back to reality. "Yeah, sorry, just thinking."

"So, I'm trying to get the feed from that time frame from the surveillance videos. Maybe I can pull a sketchy profile from it or something. If not, maybe SHIELD can," the archer explained. Natasha heard the sound of clicking of keys in the background so she figured Clint was working hard to get some sort of lead on this new development.

"Who do you think it was?" Natasha asked. "Do you think it was Varga?"

"Either him or an accomplice," Clint said. "By the way, he or she took a very thick manila folder from your desk."

Natasha cussed. "There was some important shit in there!"

"Concerned that your job's in peril?" Clint asked. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Shut up, Hawk," Natasha grumbled. "There was important stuff that could lead us further towards Varga but clearly he doesn't want that to happen."

"Yeah, pretty much," Clint said. "Look, I'm going to let you go. I need to focus on this security feed. You probably want to go back to sleep anyways."

Natasha couldn't help but scoff. "I'm not going back to sleep after a development like this."

Natasha heard Clint chuckle, a low rumble that no doubt originated from his gut. "I'll email you if there are any new developments."

Natasha yawned, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table and noticed she still had another hour until the alarm on her phone would go off. "Okay," she said to Clint. "Be careful."

"Always am," he said and then the line disconnected.

Natasha stared at her phone for a couple seconds before locking the screen and shoving it back under her pillow. With an _oomph_, she fell back against the pillows and drifted back into the abyss.

* * *

"_Clint, your tie is completely wrong!" Natasha exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat._

_The archer was still fiddling with the tie, trying to tie a Windsor knot, but he was failing horribly. He ripped the tie from around his neck and then turned to Natasha, handing it to her in his outstretched arm. "Fine, just get it over with," he griped._

_The red head rolled her eyes and took the tie from him. She pulled him closer to her and fixed the collar of his dress shirt so that she could easily tie his tie. Over, under, and back around, she finally pulled the tie tight and then stepped back to admire her handiwork._

"_Thank you Mrs. Cooper," Clint said with a cocky grin._

_Natasha rolled her eyes before turning around to reveal the unzipped zipper to her dress. "I scratch your back, you scratch mine," she deadpanned._

_With a chuckle, Clint pulled the zipper up with ease. The satin fabric fused together with the help of the zipper, bringing the two pieces together as one._

_It had been three days since they arrived in Budapest and only today had been the first encounter they had with Bartha. They'd met him earlier as a businessman looking for more investments, but Clint and Natasha knew Mr. and Mrs. Cooper didn't have what he was looking for._

_Clint and Natasha had agreed to meet Bartha and his trophy wife (no doubt a prostitute being paid to impress Clint and Natasha and then impress Bartha later in bed) for dinner. Of course they'd talk business, but it would give Clint and Natasha a better idea as to who Bartha is as a person._

_Without a word to Clint, Natasha glided forward to retrieve her guns from the table in the corner of their suite. She lifted her leg and rested her foot on one of the chairs, letting the satin fabric of her dress fall to the side to reveal her thigh holster. She checked the magazine before snapping it into place and sliding the gun into the holster. She did the same with her second gun – checking the magazine and then snapping it into place – before replacing her one leg with the other to slide the second gun into its holster._

"_You think he suspects anything?" Natasha asked, firmly setting her foot on the floor before fluffing up her hair._

"_I'd be insulted if he didn't," Clint said with a smirk. He reached into his suitcase and pulled out his collapsible bow and some collapsible arrows. He tucked them into the interior of his suit jacket where a gun was also hidden. _

_Smoothing out the fabric so that it didn't look like he was concealing any weapons, he looked at Natasha. The read head was effortlessly chic and elegant in a blood red satin gown with a deep plunge and a slit up the left side. She wore minimal jewelry but had caked on the mascara and eyeliner for the complete sex appeal._

"_Well, let's hope he suspects something," she said. "It'll make this easier to take him out."_

_She picked up her clutch from the end of the bed and snapped it shut. She glided across the room to the door with Clint on her heels._

"_At least allow us to make it to the main course," Clint griped. "I'm starving."_

_The red head rolled her eyes._

* * *

When Natasha arrived at Cinege Corporation at nine o'clock on the dot, the manila folder was missing like Clint said. The female assassin sighed and then plopped down in her chair. This was the last thing she needed at nine o'clock in the morning.

Powering up her computer, she absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the tabletop as she sipped her coffee from a travel mug. After several seconds, the computer displayed a login screen and she quickly typed in her credentials. She sat back in her chair, waiting for the next step.

As she waited, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped to the left just in time to see Mr. Cinege entering the waiting area, making a bee-line for his office. But he wasn't alone.

Fortunately, trailing him by roughly three feet was András Varga, smugly grinning like the douchebag that he was. Mr. Cinege had a cheery grin on his face, diverting his path from his office to Natasha's desk.

"Good morning, Ms. Benes. How are you this morning?" he chirped.

"I'm good. How are you Mr. Cinege?" Natasha said with a friendly smile.

"I'm good. I'm good," he said before turning to Varga, motioning for him to approach Natasha's desk. "Ms. Benes, this is Ambrus Katona. He's a new addition to our financial staff."

Varga stretched out his arm and Natasha grasped his hand for a firm handshake. "Pleasure," she said.

"The pleasure's all mine," Varga said with a devilish grin.

Natasha was about to respond when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye once again. She turned to the entrance of the waiting room and found someone else strolling in. At first, she just figured it was someone Mr. Cinege would be meeting with after he finished with Varga.

But when she finally focused on the person as they drew closer to her desk, she found that it was the last person she'd expected to see.

* * *

**Hmm who stole the folder? And who is the second person who arrived outside of Mr. Cinege's office? And the bigger question begs, WHAT HAPPENED IN BUDAPEST!? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Once again, I'm sorry for the delay. You ever write a story and have plans for chapters later on in the story but you don't have plans for the stuff leading up to those chapters? That's how I am with this story. Uggghhhh, it's so hard! Haha, anyways, I hope this chapter doesn't suck. Enjoy!**

* * *

_The dinner went perfectly._

_Bartha had been posing as an investment banker who was interested in the Cooper's wine business. Of course the man had cleaned up a prostitute to pose as his wife. Clint and Natasha could tell she was a prostitute because she smelled of sweat and shame. No amount of fancy soaps and perfumes could get rid of that smell._

_The dinner lasted about two hours, in which the group of four laughed, ate, and discussed business. By the end of it, the group had set up another meeting for two days later. They parted ways – Bartha to go fuck his prostitute wife, and Clint and Natasha to report to Fury._

_After Clint and Natasha sent the details to Fury, they'd collapsed on their king-sized bed in their hotel room and stared at the ceiling for an indefinite amount of time. Bartha had to know something. This had to be a trap._

"_He has to know something," Natasha muttered, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling._

_She heard Clint shift beside her. "I don't think so," he said. "He acted totally normal and oblivious at dinner. Plus, he was kind of wasted. Did you see how many glasses of wine he had? He's totally a light-weight."_

_Natasha shot up, resting herself on her elbows. "Barton, be serious here."_

"_I _am_ serious," he said. "There's no way he knows. His body language said it all."_

_Natasha sighed. If this mission went to hell in a hand basket, they were going to be totally screwed._

* * *

Five o'clock rolled around for the employees at Cinege Corporation, which meant that it was time to go home. However, for Clint, it meant his work day was just starting. He hadn't heard from Natasha since earlier that morning when he'd called her about the intruder. He still couldn't pull a profile from the grainy images he'd gotten from the surveillance footage, but he promised himself he'd keep working on it during his shift.

Walking through the main entrance, Clint struggled to push through the crowd of departing employees. Several of them were already dressed down for the trek home or dressed in workout gear for an after-work gym session. From across the lobby, Clint spotted Natasha. Normally she would stick out like a sore thumb, but he had to remind himself that she was a blonde now.

Clint pushed through the sea of people, making his way to the elevators to report to work. Closer and closer he drew to Natasha but not once did he make eye contact with her. They weren't supposed to know each other so there was no sense in eye contact.

Just before he passed by her, he noticed something drop from her bag and onto the floor. She was up to something and clearly she wanted him to notice. She brushed past him and he stopped in his tracks, picking up the item she'd dropped. Strangely enough, it had been her phone. Why she had dropped her phone, he had no clue. Either way, she needed it in the event she needed to report to Fury.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Natasha stepping through the main entrance and onto the sidewalk. Clint pushed through the crowd and through the doors, frantically looking up and down the sidewalk in hopes of spotting Natasha. He found her a couple feet down the sidewalk, searching through her purse.

Marching down the sidewalk, he approached the blonde assassin. "Looking for this?" He held up the phone as Natasha turned to look at him.

A grin broke out across her face. "Yes," she sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Dropped it in the lobby. I was hoping I could catch up with you," Clint said.

"Thank you so very much, ummm…" she trailed off. This was the part where Mariska and Patrik met for the first time. They hadn't planned it this way, which sent up a red flag for Clint. Something was wrong and she needed to team up with him.

"Patrik, Patrik Csorba," Clint said, extending his hand for a shake.

"Mariska Benes," Natasha said with a smile.

It was strange to be introducing themselves as if they were meeting for the first time. He couldn't look at Natasha as if he was seeing her for the first time, and he knew that neither could she.

"So, umm," she said as she adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "You work at Cinege Corp too?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah, clocking in for the night shift soon. I work for the security team."

Natasha nodded. "You keep the building safe?" she asked flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes at the archer.

_Goddamn woman, what are you doing!?_ he mentally shouted.

"I try," he said with a chuckle. "I should get in there, though. My shift's starting soon."

"Okay," Natasha said as she started to slowly back away. "It was nice meeting you Mr. Csorba." She batted her eyelashes one more time and gave that _fuck-me-right-now_ look before turning on her heel gracefully and strolling down the sidewalk.

Grinning to himself as he shook his head, he walked back down the sidewalk to reenter Cinege Corporation. Something had happened in the time between his phone call with Natasha and now. Why else would she speed up the process of having Patrik and Mariska meet?

He stepped into the lobby, which was now partially deserted except for a few stragglers, and made his way to the elevators. As he waited, he wondered what his night at work had in store for him.

* * *

She knew she should have told him, but if she did, it would have blown their cover. The only option was to make Mariska and Patrik meet sooner than expected. When Varga had waltzed into Mr. Cinege's office with his accomplice in tow, she didn't realize she'd forgotten to breathe.

She promised Clint this wouldn't happen. She told him it was impossible. And yet, here she was, afraid to tell him the truth.

And that was a recipe for disaster.

* * *

Following his shift the night before, tonight's shift was by far the most boring. After discovering the intruder on the surveillance footage, nothing could compare to a night at work. So, Clint tediously reviewed the footage from the night before, hoping to pull some poor quality image to start off with.

It was around eleven o'clock when Clint made himself some coffee with the coffee maker in the surveillance room. When it was ready, Clint downed the entire pot within minutes, hoping the caffeine would keep him focused on the task at hand. About an hour later, movement on one of the screens caught Clint's attention and his head snapped up. Once again, it was on the screen for Mr. Cinege's office and the intruder – most likely the same one – was snooping around Natasha's desk.

It took a second for Clint to react. But when he did, he was out of his seat in a flash, sprinting down the hallway. He jammed his thumb on the button for the elevator while he checked the holster on his belt for his gun. Thankfully, it was in its rightful place. The elevator pinged, the doors slid open, and Clint rushed into the carriage, jamming his thumb onto the button corresponding to Mr. Cinege's floor.

Clint nervously tapped his foot as he watched the numbers on the wall increase as the elevator ascended. He wouldn't let this guy get away again. He knew how he got in so he would follow him on his way out.

Clint was lost in his thoughts when the elevator reached its destination. Before the doors even opened, Clint had his gun ready. Slowly, with his gun in the lead, he cautiously walked out of the elevator and stuck to the shadows in hopes of gaining the upper hand. As he walked down the hallway, he could hear the sound of papers rustling within the sitting area outside of Mr. Cinege's office. Clint wouldn't be surprised if the intruder was looking to steal more of Natasha's important documents.

On his tip toes, Clint walked into the sitting area to find the intruder hunch over Natasha's desk, rifling through a stack of important documents. His back was facing Clint and he was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood on his head. Clint wasn't sure if he wanted to startle him or not, but this guy had to be brought to justice. There wasn't a doubt that this guy was working with or alongside Varga.

Clint cocked his gun, the sound resonating throughout the silent room. The intruder stiffened, ceasing rifling through the papers.

"Don't move," Clint growled.

There was silence for a couple seconds before a bone-chilling cackle echoed throughout the room. Clint furrowed his brow in bewilderment. He had a damn gun trained on this guy and he thought it was funny?

"Are you really going to shoot me, baby brother?"

And so Clint's blood turned cold.

* * *

**Oh what have I done? Did I just go there? Oh yeah, I did. What does Barney Barton have to do with Varga? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone! We're starting to get to the stuff I had planned for this story, so it will hopefully pick up a bit. I hope you like this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint had wondered about this day for years. He wondered how this confrontation with his brother would go. Never did Clint imagine it would be during a mission and his brother would be the target.

A throaty chuckled reverberated throughout the room, causing a chill to run up and down Clint's spine. The dark figure slowly turned around to face Clint and the archer wasn't quite sure he was ready to face his biggest fear. It had been years since he'd seen Barney and they hadn't exactly ended on good terms.

"What? No hello? No 'good to see you?'" Barney asked with a smirk.

"What are you doing here, Barney?" Clint growled, tightening his grip on his gun.

In the dark room, Clint could see a mischievous smirk on his brother's face. His crooked teeth poked out from underneath his lips and his monstrous body shielded most of the source of light coming in from the window behind him.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet, baby brother. I mean, you do work for SHIELD after all," Barney said.

Clint stared at his older brother in confusion. SHIELD had given them every piece of information when it came to this mission. There was no way they would withhold information from them, especially if there was a threat for one of their agents. This could be another Rome scenario. Clint _hoped_ it wasn't another Rome scenario.

"Haven't you heard? I'm working with Varga," Barney boasted, clearly proud of his accomplishment. "Yeah, he found me on the streets of Amsterdam, completely whacked out of my mind. He took me under his wing, taught me a couple of things, and now we're business partners."

"And you think SHIELD missed out on that detail?" Clint questioned.

"Possibly, but I'm surprised you didn't figure it out," Barney drawled slyly.

Clint shook his head. How could he possibly have known that Barney was working with Varga?

"You see, it was only a matter of time until Director Fury put you on this case," Barney mused as he started to wander around the room with his arms clasped behind his back. It was a mannerism that Director Fury did often that it concerned Clint as to what Barney's intentions were. "I was the one who took the money under the SHIELD agents from London's watch. While Varga had the team distracted, I hacked into SHIELD's accounts and transferred the money to an account in Switzerland. Then, from there, I withdrew it and closed out the account so that it couldn't be traced.

"I knew Fury would put you and that little red head on this mission, drawing you closer to me," Barney continued. "You are SHIELD's best partnership, am I right? I knew they'd assign you to this mission. Though, I'm surprised, considering what happened the last time you two were in Budapest."

Clint's heart skipped a beat and his finger curled tighter around the trigger. "How do you know about that?" he growled.

"Ah, ah, ah," Barney scolded. "Easy there, tiger." Clint noticed his brother was resting a hand on an object on his belt. In the dark, he couldn't see exactly what it was but he would bet his collapsible bow that it was a gun. "I've been following you, little bro. How you managed to miss that, well, I'm actually quite appalled. I thought you were one of the best."

"_I am_," Clint growled as he thrust the gun closer to Barney.

In retaliation, Barney pulled out his own gun and aimed it at the archer. "Look, I don't want to shoot you - ."

"Yeah, well, I do, so if you don't mind, I'd like to pull the goddamn trigger right now," Clint growled through clenched teeth.

"Hey, take it easy," Barney said calmly. "We haven't seen each other in years and this is how you treat me?"

"Last I checked you tried to kill me the last time we saw each other, so I think I have every right to treat you like this."

Clint narrowed his eyes to slits, staring his brother down in the dark. He heard a scoff, which most likely elicited a smirk from the elder Barton brother. "You know, I did just want to talk and catch up, but I think I'll just skip to the big finish."

Before Barney could even react, Clint pulled the trigger of his gun, but forgot to aim. The bullet went astray, shattering the antique lamp in the corner of the waiting room. He pulled the trigger once again and the second bullet shattered the floor-to-ceiling window behind Barney. The elder Barton brother shielded himself from the rain of glass.

"Hey!" Barney shouted. "_That was not nice!_"

Clint was always better with a bow so his aim with a gun was off. But never did he miss so much that he couldn't even manage to graze his target. Clint watched as Barney glanced behind him before turning back around to smirk at Clint.

"Well, I wanted to give you the full blow-by-blow, but I've got to run," Barney said.

And then, Clint listened. The sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air grew louder and louder until the aircraft appeared outside of the window. With a smirk and an arch of his eyebrow, Barney got a running start and then launched himself out the window and into the helicopter. A couple seconds later, Clint ran towards the shattered window to catch up, but it was too late. He glanced up at the helicopter as it rose in the air. As it sped away, he caught a glimpse of Barney hanging out the side and saluting mischievously at Clint.

Graner was _so_ going to fire him.

* * *

A loud bang at her balcony doors caused Natasha to bolt out of bed and grab the gun she kept stowed underneath her mattress. It was still dark outside so Natasha could only see the silhouette of the figure outside her doors. She quickly grabbed her phone and pressed a random button to check the time. It was only 4:37.

"Nat. Come on, it's me. Let me in," she heard the rough voice of Clint Barton say.

With a relieved sigh, she set her phone back on the bedside table and returned the gun to its rightful place under the mattress before padding across the room to unlock the balcony doors. She'd barely opened the doors six inches before Clint plowed through and stomped in. She could tell he was shaken up and the previous day came flooding back to her. His nervous behavior could only mean one thing.

"Clint, what's wrong?" she asked, even though she quite possibly already knew the answer.

"It's him, Nat," Clint said, his voice shaking.

"Him? Who's him?"

"Barney," he stated. "It's Barney. Barney's…he's…he's _fucking_ working with Varga!"

Natasha released a shaky breath. Now was the moment she decided whether to tell him she knew or not. Clint would find out eventually. She didn't doubt that Barney would keep that piece of information to himself. The evil glint in his eye when she'd met him the day before had said it all.

"He's been following us, Nat," Clint confessed. "I don't know for how long or why but he knows about the last time in Budapest. He's been trying to run into me for a long time.

"And he's planning something. I just know it," Clint continued. "There's got to be a reason he wanted to find me again."

"Clint, stop," Natasha said. She drew in a shaky breath, not daring to meet Clint's eyes. "I know."

Her eyes still didn't meet his but she could tell, just by the lengthy silence, that he was staring at her in confusion. "W-what do you mean?" he stuttered.

"He came into the office yesterday with Varga." This time, she did lock eyes with Clint. As she confessed, she saw his expression go from confused to angry.

"_And you didn't think to tell me!?_" he exploded.

"I'm sorry, Clint. I'm so, so sorry," she apologized. "I wanted to tell you but I didn't think - ."

"You didn't think what? Hmmm? That it wasn't important? That it could wait?" he shouted.

"I didn't think. That's the problem. I wasn't thinking, okay?" she snapped. "And I'm really sorry. But you're okay, right?"

"No, I'm not okay!" he growled, throwing his hands up in the air. He started to pace the room, breathing heavier than usual. "I just saw my fucking brother for the first time in years and my fucking partner didn't tell me she'd seen him!"

"Clint, I'm sorry. How many times do I have to say that?" she growled, crossing her arms across her chest.

Clint shook his head as he continued pacing. "I can't believe this. I can't believe _you_!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Clint," Natasha scoffed. "Yes, I didn't tell you and I should have, but we've been through far worse than this."

Clint rubbed his hand over his face before collapsing on the edge of her bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. "Sorry, Tasha," he sighed, his voice muffled from being shielded by his hands. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," she yawned, hugging her arms to her body as she sat down next to Clint. "I won't let him hurt you."

The archer sat upright before leaning over to rest his head on Natasha's shoulder. They stayed like for quite some time, sitting in silence and enjoying one another's company. It was after about ten minutes when Clint finally sighed and said, "I should be getting back."

Natasha turned her head to catch a glimpse of Clint's face. "You're still supposed to be at work?" she questioned with an arch of her eyebrow.

"Yeah," he sighed, standing from the edge of her bed and stretching his arms above his head. "I should probably be getting back."

Natasha stood from the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around Clint's muscular torso. "He's not going to get away, Clint. I promise."

Clint nodded. "I know. I'll kill him myself. Brothers be damned."

Natasha chuckled before unwrapping her arms from his torso and giving him a light shove. "Get back to work before you fuck up this mission."

Clint chuckled and then padded across the room to the balcony doors. Just before stepping out, he looked back at Natasha. The female assassin nodded in reassurance to her partner and he nodded back. In a flash, he disappeared into the dark.

Natasha yawned once more, but she glanced over at the clock. It was a little bit before five o'clock but she knew there was no chance she'd be falling back asleep. There was no way Clint was going to have a plan for this situation so she was going to take it upon herself to make one. Pulling on her sweater, she retrieved her SHIELD files from the loose floorboard underneath her bed and began to draw up a plan for when everything went to hell.

* * *

**Uh oh, Clint's pretty much losing his mind and it seems like it's Natasha's job to salvage this mission. Think Barney will make this mission harder? Or is _he_ the mission? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I am soooooo sorry I haven't updated this in like a month. I didn't even realize it had been that long until I looked at the date I last updated it. This chapter probably sucks but I hope you like it anyways. Enjoy!**

* * *

Returning to work at Cinege Corporation the next day was chaotic. The daytime security team was on full alert following the debacle the night before. Mr. Cinege's office had been moved to a large conference room on the 18th floor while the window in the sitting area outside of his office was being replaced.

Natasha didn't see Barney around the office. She expected him to keep up appearances as Varga's assistant, but she didn't see him at all. His absence seemed suspicious given his sudden appearance the other day. Natasha hoped he didn't fall off the grid again; she needed to keep an eye on him and hope that he didn't do anything drastic.

As for drastic, Natasha worried Clint was going to do the same. His behavior the night before when he'd shown up at her apartment was very erratic. She wasn't entirely sure she'd calmed him down enough to ensure he didn't do anything against her wishes. It sucked that they worked two entirely different shifts. Otherwise, she would keep an eye on him.

However, Natasha went about her day as usual, preparing paperwork and filing important documents at her makeshift work station outside of Mr. Cinege's temporary office. Every so often, people scheduled for a meeting with Mr. Cinege would show up and Natasha would lead them into the temporary office to meet with Mr. Cinege. After that, she would return to her post and continue working on her tedious assignments.

By the end of the day, Natasha's eyes were tired and a headache throbbed in her temple. With a sigh, she gathered up her belongings, wrapped her fashion scarf around her neck, and then started to head out the door. She was a foot away from freedom when she heard someone whistle behind her.

"Ms. Benes, a word please?"

Natasha spun around on her heel to find Mr. Cinege poking his head out of his office door. Alida, who was still seated at her own makeshift desk, fixed a smirk upon her face. But upon remembering Alida was in the room, Mr. Cinege called her into the office as well. Natasha smirked at the bimbo blonde and marched into Mr. Cinege's temporary office with Alida on her heels.

The two blondes plopped down in the plush chairs in front of Mr. Cinege's desk. The CEO toddled around the desk and then flopped down into his leather swivel chair. He arranged the papers on his desk so that they were in a messy pile in the corner. The two blondes sat in uncomfortable silence as they watched their boss rearrange his desk so that it was to his liking.

"So," Mr. Cinege started as he tidied a stack of important papers and shoved them into a manila folder. "Alida, you already know this, but Mariska, you don't. I figured I'd pull you both into my office to inform the two of you anyways.

"Next Friday," he continued, "is the annual Cinege Corporation Gala. Alida has been with us for two years so she knows the drill. But you, Mariska," Mr. Cinege stopped to thrust a beefy finger in Natasha's direction, "are new."

Natasha simply nodded her head as Mr. Cinege continued. "The gala is an event where my corporation can mingle with others in hopes of forming new friendships and making new investments."

Natasha started to theorize as to where this was going and she didn't like it.

"The two of you will need to be there to manage the guest list and arrange the favors," Mr. Cinege said. "Of course, you can enjoy the festivities but I always stress that you be professional."

The CEO stood from his chair, walked around the front of the desk, and leaned against the edge. "You are allowed _one_ guest," Mr. Cinege said as he held up his index finger, "but please remember that they are _your_ responsibility."

"Now Mr. Cinege," Alida chimed in flirtatious. Natasha nearly threw up in her mouth over the affection in Alida's voice. "We don't want to scare away Mariska."

"I'm just trying to be clear, Alida," Mr. Cinege said before turning back to Natasha. "The gala starts at seven. Hors d'oeuvres and light refreshments are served from seven to eight. Dinner is served at eight. Please dress elegantly and formally and appropriately."

Natasha nodded in understanding while out of the corner of her eye, Natasha could tell Alida looked bored, as if she'd heard this spiel one too many times.

"Okay, that's all," Mr. Cinege said vacantly. "Have a good evening, girls."

Natasha and Alida rose from their chairs at the same time and marched out of Mr. Cinege's office in a single file. Natasha marched straight out of the temporary office while Alida stayed behind to gather her belongings. Natasha rode the empty elevator to the main lobby; most of the building's employees had already left for the evening.

When she reached the lobby, it was bustling with many employees who were making plans for the evening or searching their briefcases for an important document to read during the metro ride home. From the other end of the lobby, Natasha saw Clint enter through the main doors, ready to clock in for his shift. Natasha smiled to herself as she watched him cross the lobby, dressed head to toe in black.

The female assassin stepped off of the elevator and walked through the turnstiles. She pushed past the throngs of people and made a bee-line for her hawk.

"Hey," she said with a smile as she caught up with Clint.

Clint turned around, looking alarmed that someone had addressed. Once he noticed Natasha, his expression softened and she saw his lips twitch into a smile. "Hi."

"You're the one who brought me my phone the other day," Natasha said as she tilted her head to the side in flirtation.

Clint stared at her for a few seconds, trying to catch on to the game that she was playing. When he finally did, it was almost as if she could see the light bulb turning on in his noggin. "Oh yeah, yeah, that was me," he grinned.

"I just…" she trailed off. She blew out a breath before sucking another one right back in. "I just want to thank you again. I've been so frazzled lately. I can't keep track of my own belongings."

"Oh, well, it's no problem," Clint said, shaking his head lightly.

Clint and Natasha stood there in silence for several minutes, staring and grinning at each other. However, any passersby would see two Cinege Corporation employees flirting with one another for the first time.

"I feel like I should repay the gesture," Natasha said. "Are you free for coffee anytime soon?"

Natasha watched as Clint pondered her proposal. Their schedules didn't quite match up as Mariska and Patrik; but as Clint and Natasha, there was no need for sleep when the mission was at risk.

"I can do this weekend if you're free," Clint finally said. "Does Saturday work for you?"

Natasha nodded, biting her lower lip for the excitement effect. "Saturday is perfect." The female assassin reached into her purse to procure a slip of paper and a pen. She quickly scribbled her number down – a fake one since Clint already had her number – and then handed it to Clint.

"Call me when you're free," she murmured. "I'm all by myself and need someone to talk to."

With one more flirtatious look, Natasha spun around on her heel and marched the length of the lobby, never looking back at the hyperventilating archer with the paper crumpled up in his fist.

* * *

**I know it's short but Mariska and Patrik are really hitting it off aren't they? And where do you think Barney is? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Whaaaaaaaattttt? It didn't take me a month to update this again? That's unbelievably insane! I hope you guys like this chapter. It's a bit of a filler until the gala (and the action). Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

Mariska and Patrik really hit it off, spending nearly four hours in the coffee shop along the Danube River before Patrik walked Mariska back to her apartment. Patrik leaned in for a kiss; the blonde female allowed it to happen. Mariska blushed and then she disappeared into her building.

After that, Mariska and Patrik faded back to Clint and Natasha. Once Natasha was back in her apartment, Clint had scaled the side of the building, shimmying up the metal pipe before climbing onto Natasha's balcony. The female assassin had unlocked the door and opened it a smidge the moment she walked into the apartment so that Clint could let himself in.

During the coffee date, Mariska hadn't mentioned the gala once. But now that Clint and Natasha were alone, Natasha could tell him all about it. Since she'd first been informed, she'd seen Varga around the office a couple of time. Barney, however, had been M.I.A., which made Natasha suspicious and anxious at the same time.

Clint had been informed about the gala as well, but only in passing. It was implied that he would be needed that night for security, but Clint figured Natasha would have Mariska ask Patrik to come as her date. As the details about the event fell into place, Natasha would change her plan as needed.

Natasha's biggest concern, however, was Barney. As the two assassins lied tangled in each other's limbs on Natasha's bed, she couldn't help but voice her concerns. According to employees around the office, the gala was the biggest event of the year for Cinege Corporation and Barney's absence only caused Natasha to theorize and hypothesize.

"He's going to do something, Clint," Natasha said. "At the gala, he's going to do something drastic and we're not going to be able to stop him."

Clint let out a breath. "I don't doubt that," he said. "I know not to underestimate my brother."

"That's when they'll make their move," Natasha said. "They'll probably steal millions – billions! And not just from Cinege Corp, but from the other businesses and corporations as well!"

Clint shook his head. "We'll be ready. That's what Fury sent us here for. We'll take him down then we can go home."

Natasha stared at Clint with such intensity that it made the archer uncomfortable. His brother had gotten on his bad side years ago, and he wasn't afraid to take him out if he needed to. Plus, they'd been in Budapest longer than they'd wanted to be. It was time to go home.

Sighing, the female assassin untangled herself from Clint's embrace and jumped off of the bed. She padded across the room and produced a bottle of Russian standard vodka from her kitchen cabinet. Without offering any to Clint, she unscrewed the cap and took a long swig straight from the bottle. When she finished, she pulled the bottle away from her mouth and wiped off her lips with the back of her hand.

Finally, the female assassin screwed the cap back onto the bottle and returned it to the cabinet it belonged in. The tone in Clint's voice had Natasha convinced that he had no plan going into this gala. He was going to act without thinking, possibly risking their cover for this mission. Then again it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened.

"Well," Natasha said finally after a long bout of silence. "We're fucked."

* * *

The next work day, Natasha and Clint flaunted Mariska and Patrik's relationship for the whole world to see. Before crossed the lobby to leave for the night, she stopped by the check-in desk where Clint was waiting. The moment Natasha approached him, she kissed him full on the lips and slipping her tongue into his mouth. It was an inappropriate public display of affection and something Clint and Natasha would've never done as themselves. But they weren't themselves at the moment so they milked for all it was worth.

When Natasha pulled away from him, she smirked devilishly at him before leaning back in to whisper in his ear. She whispered details about meeting up later on, but Clint knew it was to strategize for the mission, not to fool around as Mariska and Patrik. When she pulled away again, the devilish smirk had returned. With one more look at Clint, Natasha strutted away, making sure Clint had a clear line of sight to her ass as she walked away.

"Damn, Csorba!"

Clint jumped at the mentioning of his last name and spun around to see two of his co-workers staring at him in awe. Once Clint composed himself, he felt a grin spreading across his face.

"Why didn't you tell us you were hitting _that_?" his one co-worker, Elek, gasped.

Clint shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't important," he said nonchalantly, "and I never see you guys. It's pretty recent anyways."

"Not important!?" his other co-worker, Levi, exclaimed. "I've seen her around the building over the past week and was hoping I could ask her out myself. You just ruined my hopes and dreams, Csorba!"

Clint grinned at Levi's comment. If he weren't undercover, he would've kicked the guy's ass. "Yeah, well, now you guys know. Can we report to work now? I'm sure Graner has some important shit about this gala to tell us about."

Levi and Elek rolled their eyes sarcastically at Clint before stepping forward to walk through the turnstiles. Clint followed them and loaded onto the next available elevator. The trio rode the elevator in silence until it reached the basement. The chrome doors slid open to reveal the morbid basement and they stepped out and headed down the hall.

Graner was waiting for them in his office, lounging backwards in his cushioned desk chair. He grunted for the men to take a seat and they did as they were told, each of them falling into a chair in front of Graner's desk. At first, Graner made some light conversation, asking how everything was going during their shifts or if they had any questions. He even cared so much as to ask how their lives were outside of working at Cinege Corp. But it wasn't long until he actually cut to the chase.

Graner rose from his chair, clasped his hand behind his back, and began to pace the small length of the room. "As you three know, Friday is Cinege Corp's annual gala in which companies from across the globe come and mingle with not only Cinege, but other as well, in hopes of finding new investments." The burly security manager paused and glanced at his workers, who nodded silently in understanding. "You will be required to work the event, staying in the shadows in case anything goes wrong. A handful of you – and I've already talked to the rest of the team – will work the door, searching bags for any suspicious materials."

Clint had heard these details from Natasha so he'd tuned Graner out. Instead, he thought of how he'd take out Barney in the event of something going awry because Clint knew it would be Barney's fault no matter what. Clint knew he would end up facing his brother, staring him down until he pulled the trigger or released his bow string. This time, he wasn't going to let him get away.

"Csorba!"

Clint jumped at the booming voice, nearly falling off of his chair in the process. "Y-yes, sir?" he stuttered.

"Were you paying attention at all?" Graner asked, arching an eyebrow in contempt.

"Yes," Clint said with a nod.

"Then repeat everything I just said," Graner demanded, crossing beefy arms across his chest.

With a deep breath, Clint reiterated every single detail – and then some – that Graner had just reported to them. Levi and Elek stared in awe while Graner watched Clint with a menacing glare. Clint finished rattling off the important details, plunging the room into silence.

Graner stroked his chin as he stared at Clint. "You're free to go. Get out of here. Csorba, report to your post."

The three men rose from their chairs, the legs scraping across the scuffed tiled floor. They filed out of the office one-by-one, not daring to look over their shoulders at Graner. They dispersed outside the office door; Elek and Levi headed back to the elevator while Clint went the opposite direction to the surveillance room.

Natasha hadn't seen Barney since his first appearance and Clint hadn't seen him since that night outside of Cinege's office. Clint didn't expect his brother to make an appearance tonight, nor did he expect him to make an appearance any time before the gala. His moment would come next Friday night, so Clint had to be prepared for whatever his brother was going to throw at him.

* * *

**Think things will go wrong? Or will Clint and Natasha be able to stop Barney and Varga before anything goes wrong? Oh who are we kidding, this is Clint and Natasha we're talking about. Of course something's going to go wrong! The gala is coming up so stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


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